dandelion salad 

i have been hungry for years.
what can fit in my mouth: mountains
of baby shoes, a ceiling fan, & handfuls of pollen.
i dip my fingers in bronze. make a cast of my reaching.
the field has enough to eat but not enough
to make an animal of me. where has your famine
taken you? i sleep walk into a lion's mouth.
turn into a heart or a rib. some days i stop
to pick the weeds, not like a gardener but like
a family member. i dig for the root. missing legs.
little girls. lop-sided apples. plates of belonging.
the table is long & dark. i am in the salad's dream. 

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