How does a
flower
Know it’s a weed?
Unwanted and poisoned,
Pulled from the earth
For the sheer audacity of breathing
Of stretching towards the sun
Of taking up space in a place meant
Only for the chosen ones
Those fair few who are acceptable to water
Acceptable to nourish
The right size, shape, color, fragrance
Awarded for taking up space
Because they’re right, just right
And the dandelions, those freckles of gold on green pastures, those signs of summer and freedom
Do not fit the standard mold. Must be destroyed. Must be deleted.
Nicole Tommasulo her BA in Creative Writing and Literature and an MFA in Writing. Nicole is a freelance writer and editor with pieces in Heels Down Magazine, Hello Giggles, Femsplain, and more. She current works as a news writer for The List. You can follow her on Instagram at @nicoletommasulo, on Twitter at @coletommasulo, or visit her website: www.nicoletommasulo.com.