a patch of dandelions
in their seedhead prime
each calls out to be picked
a puff of breath or two
will launch
their wish and ours
but the artist
doesn’t obey instinct
she plucks a hopeful head
and contemplates it
she dismantles
hair by hair
each radial wicket
from its nodule
a pile of fractal fluff
a single naked nub
she glues each whitewinged
arrowpin
to a thread she sews
a whisper of a web
and weights it with the found
bones of a tiny bird
in place of progeny
in place of wishes
prodigal beauty