Seventeen Ways of Looking at a Crime

For John M

1) Of course you didn’t do it or

2) You didn’t mean to and

3) your brother shoplifted that bottle opener without knowing its use while

4) your

grandfather slipped albums underneath his peacoat and then felt too guilty to play them

5) Thank God you are a minor and/or

6) The DA did not pursue because

7) You could not defend

yourself (big enough, yes, but verbal, no) coupled with what she calls illegitimate memory, shape-shifting details

8) So, in light of these
findings we

9) Release him home (yard, porch

mucked with wet leaves, deflated soccer balls, lost Frisbee body unearthed in March)

10) You will be fine

11) or this will never end and we will spend all days (part, some, all—

a hummingbird dart of wonder at least) querying items 1 or 2 or

12) You did it. And now what? Ensure comprehension? Trust

therapy? Cage you in some form of item 9?

13) No. What do you recall? Rosehip lotion/slack-jawed

leeks/guitar string used to dry garlic, not what occurred in the room itself

14) Who you were before or

are still now

15) after or now whichever is easier to say

16) which is to say

how can you know and just what would it change? Four years old you screamed at the ocean,

desperate to inform each surf slap on sand—afraid each wave was the last. What did you scream?

Do you remember?

17) Come back come back come back.


Emily Franklin’s work appears or is forthcoming in the New York Times, the Cincinnati Review, New Ohio Review, Guernica, Blackbird, Tar River Poetry, Painted Bride Quarterly, The Rumpus, DIAGRAM, Mississippi Review, Lunch Ticket, Passages North, North Dakota Quarterly, Monkeybicycle, Juked, and the Chattahoochee Review among other places. Her work has also been featured on National Public Radio, long-listed for the Sunday Times EFG Short Story Award, and named notable by the Association of Jewish Libraries. Her debut collection, Tell Me How You Got Here, will be published by Terrapin Books in January 2021.