Patchwork
By Derek N. Otsuji
In great-grandma Natalie’s house there was
a half-closet where the futons were kept
under patchwork blankets folded and stacked,
layer upon layer, like sedimented rock,
hushed chronicle of geologic time.
Unfolded, they were rumpled landscapes —“plotted
and pieced” from scrapped fabrics, old Aloha prints—
hibiscus, plumeria, surfboard, palm
and the swimming honu in petroglyph
the colors, matched or mismatched, making
their own harmony, patterns peculiar
to the child for whom each piece was sewn,
kindling a miracle of warmth, and now
quietly stored away. But the years that took
the children hence have brought them home.
And the blankets, pressed under their own weight,
tumble from the closet, together with the futons,
rolled out like clouds, and over which a blanket
is thrown, like a fish net—a motley geography
mapped onto the TV room floor, or diagram
of relations arranged to accommodate
each grandchild, and now great-grandchild,
four generations in one house, and for
a season gathered in, like each scrap of cloth,
comfort’s collage, recollection (in piecemeal) of home.
Born on Oahu, 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.” He is a 2019 Tennessee Williams Scholar. Recent work has appeared in 32 Poems, Crazyhorse, Rattle, The Southern Review, and The Threepenny Review.