SCOTT BECKETT
The Rusty Toque | Issue 1 | Poetry | | July 2011
THE THINGS THAT NEEDED CLEANING UPThe shattered window lies
neatly on the floor, under the corner of the flamboyant carpet. The ripped curtains are piled where they fell, but the walls have been wiped clean of the oppressive pink triangles, echoes of another regime, another place, another time. The papers are gone: no longer allowed to spell out nothing. When you pull yourself off the floor, perhaps after you splint your broken wrist, you will find our suitcases missing. I’ve come out to the river to get rid of him, right after I cleaned up the mess that he made. I suppose it must be me who puts in the new window, fastens new handles to the closet doors. It must be me. For too long, things have been left undone. The long succession of thieves has been too much. They come out of the white house on the hill, perhaps expecting to find lace curtains and black satin sheets. But that is not what they ever come for. Perhaps if they strip us of our rank, we’ll be silent. I can’t live without integrity any longer. After sixty-five blows to the head, the deed had been done. The feeling was peculiar: it felt like freedom. |
SCOTT BECKETT writes short fiction and poetry. His recent writing examines reader assumptions of gender and gender roles. He took Writer’s Craft in high school and is currently majoring in History and minoring in Creative Writing.
