Dandelion Men
A poem by Grace Black
in my youth,Â
I understood dandelions
as fragile flowers (not egg-yolked clusters),
seed heads, delicate blooms collected
so I could hold them
close. Weeds.
to tend. to keep. one breath, one gasp,
a tiptoe wish, innocence,
and they were gone.
disassembled
when I finally understood
what fragile meant,
what dating was,
what dandelions were not,
I was no longer young. boys became men
who left. one breath, one gasp,
I am the lawn weed—now
and
they’ve all gone.
Grace Black mingles with words as she navigates this realm. She is the founding editor of Ink In Thirds. Her work appears in Bending Genres, Maudlin House, Eunoia Review, and others. Find more at https://graceblackink.com/and @graceblackink
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