Mar/Apr 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 2 PoetryMarch 1, 2017 |

Onions

We took hundreds of photos but the house would not belong. Lazily it fell across the hillside like a lounging dog and would not acknowledge us. Nights of sleepless talk, days of struggling on stony roads and pebbly ground. But we bought small, sweet onions, making a pie. Dark-crusted in the dish it was a key to the house, expanding its rooms. We learned the lie of a concave sofa, stopped quizzing the cold; our bones began to warm. Hilly ground held trails we gradually recognised. Autumn fell on the place; we felt the season between toes. You said it was a miracle—onions, baking, washing, digging, walking the rounds. Feet on earth, words like bladed tools. You picked up a head of purplish broccoli. And this, you said, beauty that sits in the hand. 

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Paul Hetherington has recently published his tenth collection of poetry, Burnt Umber (UWA Publishing, 2016). He won the 2014 Western Australian Premier’s Book Awards (poetry) and is professor of writing and head of the International Poetry Studies Institute at the University of Canberra. He was shortlisted for the 2013 Montreal International Poetry Prize and recently completed an Australia Council for the Arts residency at the BR Whiting Studio in Rome. He is one of the founding editors of the international online journal Axon: Creative Explorations.

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We took hundreds of photos but the house would not belong. Lazily it fell across the hillside like a lounging dog and would not acknowledge us. Nights of sleepless talk, […]

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