The Fruit Hopes That Each Seed Will End Far From Its Own Body
̶ Stefanie Kirby
because it knows just how unfortunate it is
to die in the shadow of something greater
than itself. To splat on the ground after being
ignored in the harvest. The fruit hopes the seeds
are light enough for the sparrows to take far
from here, over ridges and mountains, to a place
with room for branches. If a seed gets caught
in the root, it knows the tree will never relinquish it.
The fruit learns from watching its siblings fall,
to see only some are fortunate enough to catch
the slope of the hill. The fruit has no choice but to wait,
to hope some fragment of it will exist beyond
the orchard fence—to be ready when the stem snaps.
Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, VA. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has appeared in SoFloPoJo, Cotton Xenomorph, Bullshit Lit, HAD, fifth wheel press, and more. Visit carriganak.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter @carriganak for more info.