Dandelions growl in the wind

they are trampled underfoot

my heartbeat like a metronome 

strikes a chord in my chest

a cacophony, tripping over itself

the tempo rushes, jumbling notes

I taste iron

I feel fine, dandy even 

like the flower

soft, I felt it through the hole in my shoe

yellow, like the line in the road, that stretches forever

I know it does, grandma told me

they’re weeds, dandelions 

a broken arm in second grade

taught me the dangers of yellow

of spinning wheels and glass bottles 

a creak of old bones 

rusted scissors open

nestled between gaunt palms 

persistent weeds

to me they’re flowers