By: Alexander Lazarus Wolff
The sakuras blossom as I pass. Each cherry-
colored bud flourishing like the unfolding
of a Japanese fan. The sunlight erases
the residue of frigidity, the last frost
clings to the grass as spring eclipses winter.
I am meandering about with no purpose.
This, I confess: my only plan is to be a moment merry,
to hide the wound of winter in my side,
saying Good Morning to people whom I don’t care about
or speaking certain suicidal soliloquies into my cell phone
as if I’m an actor rehearsing his part.
As the sun sinks in the sky, I sink into my mind,
attentive to clouds of thoughts concealing my fears.
What does it take to tranquilize this psyche? I stop in place,
gazing toward the lake, its surface as still as glass.
A flower floats through the air, drifting
toward my feet. A courtesy returned by nature,
perhaps. I pick it up, the petals soft as satin.
What to make of this? The wind blows it
from my palm. I turn around, hastening home.
— For David Lehman
Alexander Lazarus Wolff is a student at the College of William & Mary. His work has been published or is forthcoming in The Best American Poetry website, The Citron Review, Black Fox Literary Magazine, South Florida Poetry Journal, Main Street Rag, Serotonin, and elsewhere. You can find him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/wolffalex108/ and on Instagram @wolffalex108