(An International Journal of Poetry)
ISSN 2249 –2178
Volume-2 JUNE -2012 Number-1
My Future As an Orphan
by Ellen Pickus
Words at least leave some room for forgiveness.
Where can I find some to temper my memory
of you? It would be a selective process,
snipping out the sniping words of enmity.
A machine could do it, cutting across sprockets
between scenes, leaving pain on the cutting room floor.
I could take the prettier picture for my locket
and wear it like a Victorian when I mourn.
But the best I can manage is a montage,
dark and light flickering quickly on the screen
while the characters veer from love to rage
and back again. I was never too keen
on Hollywood endings. Here in real time,
fantasy for adults amounts to crime.