Not a new poem. Rosie's Dandelion appears in my collection Ancient Lights, published by Phoenicia Publishing and available from them or on Amazon. Shared with dVerse.
ROSIE’S DANDELION
Rosie brings in the last
dandelion, carrying it closed
in a chalice of hands like
a sacrament. Stock still,
she passes a slow thumb
around its bright corolla.
It lifts its head. We are charged
with its accommodation.
It lolls loud, a solo voice
in a wine glass. By morning
its royalty is spent. The crown
is sweated hair, the stem a bled
vein. Rosie cups its scrap length,
lifting it to me on a tear
for aid or explanation.
But what can I tell you
about time that I would
have you know so soon?
