Of course she will die, you say

in your German accent, after I ask,

Do you think the Wicked Witch will die?

How do you think she’ll die?

Maybe the Scarecrow will suffocate her with straw.

A house will fall on her like it fell on her sister.

The castle will collapse.

The Tin Man will decapitate her with his ax.

When Dorothy throws the bucket of water

and the Wicked Witch dissolves in her black garb,

you look disappointed.

You say, I have a heart

for those who are disadvantaged in society

but the child in me feels justice has been done.

Tomorrow, I will wake without

Aunt Em’s lukewarm wrapped washcloth

over my forehead.  No farmhands,

no Toto, or open window.

A few hours before your flight, you’ll wake

and say to me, I was musing about the wizard

in my dream. He gave such bad advice:

building self-confidence upon a medal,

telling the tin man

it only matters how much

the heart is loved by others.

Jeffery Berg  received his  MFA from New York University.  His work has appeared in Harpur Palate, Softblow and the Gay & Lesbian Review, and is forthcoming in the Hiram Poetry Review.

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I really enjoyed reading this. Love the journey of this poem and how it ends.

Jerome added these pithy words on May 03 10 at 8:17 pm

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