Image © Abby Powers 2017
| by Stephanie Nolan | January 26, 2017 |
I. Wrap your longest eyelash, not the darkest, left eye,
in a clot of cotton. Like a small cocoon or the first
fingernail clipping of a young child.
II. Carry it gently, in the groove of your fingerprint
to that apricot tree on the corner of a sleepy street.
The gnarled branches whose fruit was no one’s and therefore
no one’s to ask for. You took three and put them in your bag.
Three little winter faces.
III. Hang it from a branch until it bends like a small fishhook.
This is where it will come true. Unless it is snuffed by the wind
like so many other fishhooks and snake skins.
IV. I heard there is an old iguana who kept his wings
all these years and years. Though he is weathered he is good
humored and will give favors as penance for the apricots
he eats each meal.
V. Give him a mint leaf, the smooth kind. He will carry
your cocoon of a dream with him until the white sky is cotton
and the clouds are shaped by thin, thinning eyelashes.
__________
Stephanie Nolan is a 17 year old poet and plant enthusiast living in Salt Lake City, Utah. She is one of the senior editors of her high school’s Nationally awarded literary magazine: Tesserae. This is her first publication in an outside magazine.
Abby Powers is a high school senior in Salt Lake City, Utah. In her free time she rows and tries to convince herself to do homework instead of doodling on her notes. The fastest way to her heart is with mashed potatoes.