Poem by Derek N. Otsuji
May 15, 2023
And with a puff the dandelion clock released its silver tufted fist of seeds, the winged minutes lifted by a boy’s wish. Across the lawn’s green hours they dispersed, a scattered flock—no, a lofty airborne force of paratroopers softly storming the innocent grass. A late sun ray picked a drifting filament now blown afield and the boy’s eye followed as it rose, sailed then slowly sank from view, and with its grieved extinguishing released a sigh—the ball blasted, the seconds flown. At night awake still, he waits for the return, when boots on the porch steps come thundering home.
About Derek N. Otsuji
Derek N. Otsuji is the author of The Kitchen of Small Hours (SIU Press, 2021), featured in Honolulu Magazine’s “Essential Hawaii Books You Should Read.” Recent work has appeared in 32 Poems, The Southern Review, and The Threepenny Review.