by Elena Ferrari
after the Buddhist “Parable of the Mustard Seeds”
let’s look again for mustard seeds to glue to our cheeks
the way no one else could: brushed down to the jaw
and under. there wasn’t light and we weren’t supposed to be crying.
(it is possible to stifle desire like an under-oxygenated candle).
you raveled out the wires of our sweaters from brambles and
we knew good things couldn’t come to us. with every second
we plummeted from the path
Elena Ferrari is a junior and attends a high school on the East Coast. She has been writing poetry for as long as she can remember, trying to jot down the microscopic and sweeping pieces of the world around her on stray napkins and scrap paper. She greatly appreciates the freedom and abstractness poetry involves as the art of endeavoring to capture fractured moments in countless different modes. She has been recognized regionally and nationally by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and Smith College and is published or forthcoming in The WEIGHT Journal, Blue Marble Review, and others.