And then one day, I find a picture of you,
when you were only three.
A chubby baby girl, grinning for the camera,
in front of a grey Sears background,
a band-aid on your knee,
your hair pulled up in lopsided pigtails.
I want to pull you out, hug you close.
Kiss you all over, never let you go.
But it’s only a picture. A paper.
Cold, smooth, semi-glossy,
already fading to hues past.
I touch your baby face,
stroke your baby hair,
hold my hand over your tiny baby fingers,
searching your eyes, so many years back,
for clues. For signs. For anything at all.
But no, nothing.
Nothing.
But an innocent baby girl,
so beautifully, breathlessly alive.
A daughter, sister, more.
A crisp winter morning,
not a single cloud in the deepest, bluest sky,
and a phone call, bluer still,
where I’m told.
How you loaded a gun, to your head, pulled the trigger,
how it ends.
A. S. Andrews lives in the Los Angeles area, where she enjoys writing whenever she can.
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10 Responses to “HOW THE FUTURE ENDS • by A. S. Andrews”
Comments
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January 22nd, 2011 at 5:20 am
Powerful reading here, I was riveted to this by your empathic imagery. Just superb! The ending is too sad…
January 22nd, 2011 at 9:43 am
Hauntingly sad.
January 22nd, 2011 at 2:38 pm
Very Sad when hugs are delayed or denied for the not entirely innocent grown up as well.
January 22nd, 2011 at 4:24 pm
Personally
I didn’t like the story!
But
It’s very well done,
and so, I’ll give it…..
Five droopy sad stars
January 22nd, 2011 at 5:28 pm
[...] poem “How the Future Ends” is published at Every Day Poets today! « Koi on a Sunny Winter Morning | [...]
January 22nd, 2011 at 7:25 pm
Devastating and brilliant. The sort of poem that makes the reader stand hushed in the presence of your experience, honestly told, excruciatingly felt.
January 23rd, 2011 at 8:05 am
Beautifully, hauntingly poignant. I love the writing.
January 23rd, 2011 at 2:34 pm
The imagery is so poignantly alive I can’t help but wonder how old she was and how distant when she pulled a gun. I don’t mean the picture, I mean the person.
January 24th, 2011 at 10:20 am
Jerry I agree- devastating and brilliant – i was absorbed and really felt it with the author at the end that complex disconnect with the innocence of a someone’s baby and a suicide. i’m not explaining this well but … i think what i mean is that the entire poem is set up to create a certain kind of confusion and sudden heartbreak (which is to say, well done!)
January 24th, 2011 at 5:16 pm
Good flow, strong imagery and a context that goes deep and true. Well done.