dandelions

It's a weed, she said.

the pretty little yellow flower.

becuase her mommy told her

and my mommy told me

but I made a bouquet

and stuck them in a vase

on my bedroom windowsill.

I cried when they died -

when the lawnmower or time

chopped off their golden heads.

then I went to go pick more,

becuase I loved them.

I threaded the stems

into a crown on my hair.

and my swingset was my castle

and my backyard was my empire

and the gardens were my slaves:

I never envied those petals

groomed in careful dirt; no,

I was the queen of the weeds.