Knobby onion,
crisped edges
a thin scrim
around circles
that cinch
the center seed
Matroushka’d
deep within.
Quiet in water,
until white hair
a Medusa’s head,
tipped and dowsing,
tangles its snakes,
while thin green legs
bean up in pairs
as the glass holds
their hips, forced.
The burst is sudden,
a petaled shoe
kicking off wafts
of civety musk
so that heads turn,
not knowing
from where.