SOME DAYS ARE CEREMONIES

Some days are ceremonies

I cut onions for all the boys, women,men, and girls

For Ian who would have danced for the sun, the sun, the Mayans

For Matt waiting for snow and thinking on my behalf

For the cars and cats and grandmothers

For the man who cooked onions last nightand every night, making bachelor meals
for company

And for the rainbow women folding themselves into tiny cascades 
of pain and pleasure
beneath the kitchen sink.