My science teacher said
there are no monographs
on the dandelion.
Unlike the Venus fly-trap
or Calopogon pulchellus,
it is not a plant worthy of scrutiny.
It goes on television
between the poison squirt bottles,
during commercial breakaways from Ricki Lake.
But that's how life
parachutes
to my home.
Home,
where they make you do
what you don't want to do.
Moms with Uzis of reproach,
dads with their silencers.
(My parents watch me closely because I am their jewel.)
So no one knows how strong
a dandelion is inside,
how its parts stick together,
bract, involucre, pappus,
how it clings to its fragile self.
There are 188 florets in a bloom,
which might seem a peculiar number,
but there are 188,000 square feet
in the perfectly proportioned Wal-Mart,
which allows for circulation
without getting lost.
I wish I could grow like a dandelion,
from gold to thin white hair,
and be carried on a breeze
to the next yard.
This is a small poetry club that started as a poetry email exchange between two friends. Our goal is to read a poem everyday, and this blog is one way to help keep us accountable. There is only one valid rule in poetry club: there are no rules in poetry club. Read any poem, in any order, with any or no interactions. You decide. We only suggest you read poetry!
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Comment from Feb 2016
ReplyDelete"What a teenager. Why Walmart? What is so bad about the narrator's home? Nothing..."
The poem captures the mind of a teenager or at least one perspective. The distrust of your parents parenting on your happiness. The helicopter parents, "(My parents watch me closely because I am their jewel.)"
ReplyDeleteShe (gender stereotyping) wants freedom, but has to stay home watching Ricki Lake. Like the dandelion, she is grounded at home (literally and figuratively), but when it is her time she will get to blow away to another yard. Even the dandelion has to stay put until it is mature enough to fly away with the wind.
I still do not get the walmart reference.
The walmart means that every insignificant thing can have its own fuction or use.
DeleteI have been on this poem for 40 mins, going to let it sit for tomorrow
ReplyDeleteParents, teacher, all adults- seeing no depth in her. No monogram, using as a jewel, surface.
DeleteBut there is a monogram, her life, she explains the depth.
188 florets= 188 seeds= 188 options, paths, parachutes
Walmart as 1 potential option, OR an option while she waits for the real parachute. An option that "allows for circulation", money? A distraction from her home life until she can flower?
Poison squirt bottles/Venus fly trap= parents
Ricki Lake/calopolgon pulchellus (pink orchid)= actress, another adult mentioned in the poem (another option?) but she mentions "in between" she doesn't want to become either. She wants to be herself. Not flashy, but still pretty and useful like the dandelion.
She doesn't dream big, the next yard. A parachute like the dandelion seed looks like. Less control....still falling but falling into new possibilities, to grow new structure, new insides.
Cycle of her life, from gold to thin white hair...to parachute.