Onions are like hand grenades

Onions are like hand grenades

Onions are like hand grenades 
That hide right in plain sight.
They add a touch of piquancy; a savoury delight.

But hiding in those layers you know
Are traps, you must beware. 
Onions are like hand grenades, 
The threats I now will share.

They seem so innocent a root 
Among the beet and spud.
Growing almost secretly buried in the mud.

We add them to our soups and stews,
In salad they add crunch.
But onions are like hand grenades, 
They really pack a punch.

Beneath the skin of paper which slips beneath the blade.
There are more hidden risks to life, from Allium grenades.

A layer of gossamer so slick
Again the knife may skate.
Onions are like hand grenades, 
They jeopardise our fate.

The final ace they hold within
An acrid juice we find.
So as we cut into their flesh
They render us as blind.

©Aurley Keenan 2018