Dandelions by Liv Mammone

by Leslie Anne Mcilroy


You really
should start
waxing. It’d
change your life
if you did; I
promise. 
Change how you
feel about
yourself.

Nothing but a
miracle of
modern science
is going to
change how I
feel about
myself, 
Grandma.

We shoulda
started twelve
years ago. The
follicles would
already be dead
and you’d never
have to worry
about it.

I’m not. I’m
more worried
about the steel
in my legs than
the dandelions
on them.

Well, yeah, but
no one can see
the plates, 
honey, and you
need those. But
if you were my
front garden, I
wouldn’t leave
ya untended like
that. Why should
I let my
granddaughter
be ugly?

Mowed lawns
are classist
status symbols, 
Gram, and
dandelions have
medicinal
properties.

They’re weeds. 
No man will
love you if
you’re growing
weeds, no
matter how
good the salad
is.

Maybe not. But
they’ll be able to
make wishes on
my thighs.
 


 Photo of Live Mammone

Photo of Live Mammone

Liv Mammone is an editor and poet from Long Island, New York. Her poetry has appeared in wordgathering, monstering, Wicked Banshee, The Medical Journal of Australia, and others. In 2017, she competed on the national poetry slam team for Union Square Slam and appeared in the play The Fall of All Atomic Angels as part of a festival that was named Best of Off Off Broadway by Time Out Magazine. Her most recent editorial job, Uma Dwivedi’s poetry collection They Called her Goddess; we Named her Girl, was nominated for a Write Bloody book award.