"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see

there’s a small duck i’ve been

waiting for. i tell the duck my name,

who i am. it probably doesn’t

remember, but that’s fine. i remind

myself that when you find an

acquaintance after a long while of

not knowing, it’s both hard and

easy to get them to like you again.

at least that’s what i tell myself on

those blue days by the pond,

feeding the geese breadcrumbs,

the duck looking at me like

what the hell, man, where’s mine?

i don’t bring it up. i’ve got

something different now. the duck

is a thing of the past, and while i

lived there, i don’t anymore.

sometimes late at night when i’m

packing up i hear the crickets and

see a firefly or two, and the yellow

beak lights up for just a second, like

some strange pulsing signal across

the pond. sometimes i wonder what

would happen if i went over, or went

away, or did anything at all

Paul Potts (b. 2007) is a poet from Oklahoma. He began writing poetry in September of 2024, after recommendation from a teacher. His style often weaves narrative imagery with observational detail to transform private moments and fleeting observations into meditations on philosophy and strangeness. You can find his poetry in The Louisville Review, Rowayat, and The Words Faire.