By : Julie Lechevsky
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.
Lechevsky, Julie. Poems & Plays. Spring/Summer 2001 ed. Vol. 8. Middle Tennessee State U, 2001. Print. <http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/156.html>
I think that this poem has more to do with a universal theme than the writer's cultural perspective. I think it's interesting how she kind of compares herself to a dandelion as people often underestimate people who don't seem interesting. Because some people are seen as uninteresting people don't care to read into them and learn more even when on the inside they're more complicated and special than they seem. I think everyone at some point has felt a bit judged on appearances rather than how they really are so this poem is very universal as most people can relate to it. I choose it because as I really liked her simile in the last stanza about "[growing] like a dandelion, from gold to thin white hair". It just seemed really unique.
No comments:
Post a Comment