How does a
Know it’s a weed?
Unwanted and poisoned,
Pulled from the earth
For the sheer audacity of breathing
Of stretching towards the sun
Of taking up space in a place meant
Only for the chosen ones
Those fair few who are acceptable to water
Acceptable to nourish
The right size, shape, color, fragrance
Awarded for taking up space
Because they’re right, just right
And the dandelions, those freckles of gold on green pastures, those signs of summer and freedom
Do not fit the standard mold. Must be destroyed. Must be deleted. 

Nicole Tommasulo
Latest posts by Nicole Tommasulo (see all)

Leave a Reply