Dandelions as a Metaphor for Queerness

I have a dream (recurring) that I wake up

face to face with God and he is fifty feet tall 

with diamonds sewn over his eyes like Coraline

tangled roots for hair and skin of paper machè.

For some reason I tell him that I’m sorry and 

he says that it’s okay and he loves me anyway.

When I ask why he says, “if you see a dandelion

growing from cracks in concrete, you don’t think 

‘that’s not where that’s meant to be’, you think 

‘oh, how beautiful’.” he looks at me with glacial 

pity and bends down to hand me a bouquet of 

dandelions, yellow like faded childhood

memories; amber and ivory and saffron.

I stare at them until they become the sun 

and burn my eyes and I wake up.