DISPERSE

You pluck them from theto watch them wilt–those pretty things on the sill.Claiming your power over natureto play God with the peonies.You love the silk-skinned narcissithe ignorance of feverfewand the irony of freesiashopeful gazes trained on open skiesbehind the panesthat brown and wither them.I will suffer no such containment.I am a dandelion ready to dispersefree to curl my toes in the earthto throw myself on the wind,and though trodden and ignoredto flourish with force.Puffball, milk-witch, cankerwort, pestcall me anything except yours.I do not grow for you.I am the lion’s tooththe thorn in your sideand though you may pull me from earthI will always return to it.