i explain ocd to the dandelions

it is like trying
to hold a terrible cloud.
i remember though
the first thrills of feeling
like the sky was pinned down
& not going 
to topple down on me again.
a ritual of fingers & teeth. 
i started with food.
pretended sandwiches were moons
waning towards new.
the blank sky. haven't you ever
tried to count the faces 
of the divine? haven't you ever
woken up before the sun
to try to grow a pair of wings?
when i am at my worst 
i am speaking into a velvet mirror.
the self i want
is not there. she is on the roof
casting out a fishing line
& hoping to snag her father.
i promise you that 
you can find ways to take inventory 
of anything. footsteps. dead birds.
droplets of water.
the world of numbers is one
of spiral & sweetness. is one that has,
somehow, kept me alive. 
this is an exercise in devotion. in loss.
i could bend down now.
give you all names like "one"
& "five thousand." when i am farthest 
away from the ribbon self,
i think i could teach others.
a religion of urgent collections. 
tell me, who do you think
decides how we sleep? is there
a little jupiter beetle in all of
our heads or do we just have
to find the yellow & spit it out?