Dandelion


a patch of dandelions
in their seedhead prime

each calls out to be picked

a puff of breath or two
will launch

their wish and ours

but the artist
doesn’t obey instinct

she plucks a hopeful head
and contemplates it

she dismantles
hair by hair
each radial wicket
from its nodule

a pile of fractal fluff
a single naked nub

she glues each whitewinged
arrowpin
to a thread             she sews

a whisper of a web
and weights it with the found
bones of a tiny bird

in place of progeny
in place of wishes

prodigal beauty