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Writer's pictureBrenna Taitano

dandelion seeds (a poem)

Updated: Apr 22, 2023

her parents got divorced yesterday—she keeps the bits of wisdom and clichés in her closet so as not to clutter the house (eg., i’m sorry. you’re so strong. this is a good thing, really. fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce or separation). i’ve cried from jealousy five times, not including right now, and carry dollar tree make-up wipes and mascara in my purse for such occasions—(the ones requiring an “i’m a rock for my best friend and not a bitch” mentality that cause me to hug her, tightly, and step away so her aunt can hug her even tighter). i wish the aunt would hug me, too--maybe look me in the eyes and say, “oh honey, you’re broken.” i wish mom would call to say, “i’m sorry, dad and i aren’t gonna make it” (they will, they never argue) instead of, “we’re proud of x, but what about y?” to which i’ve replied, “you need x to find y, i think. but what do i know, i’m no mathematician, i’m still in college after all.” i do not want to be reminded that i’m a smartass because i already i know what i am and i wish someone would tell us something that we both don’t know for once. i wish someone would put me in an omelet, turn up the heat—i’d die smiling. i went to the park and screamed, “someone hold me, dangit!” and the old man said, “how much, honey?” so what is left, then, if a divorce is not the option? i have wishes, men, and screams. the self-pity god said i don’t need anything else.



Image via Saad Chaudhry/unsplash.com

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