Rachel Becker
Slouching Towards
The slub of the rough beast,
its heavy lurching,
rough creeping,
sick sagging skin.
Isn’t hate,
isn’t the upturned headstone
or branded arm-banded
skinhead kid.
Instead, fleeting, empty
hollow holding.
Horses clod their hooves
on damp pavement,
sound ground.
We listen and yawn,
plant petunias.
Inside, a sense of nothing.
Just wait. How bad can it be?
It won’t last. And then,
the slow slide into
the yawning horror.
Papers please.
We knew it was coming.
We did nothing.
All around, the rain fell,
pelleting the ground.
Around us, a violet stench
of violence. We held our noses.
Inside, a
slow turning.
The horses keep pace.
Underfoot, the tangle
of hooves, squashed,
squelched earth.
Rachel Becker teaches English and Creative Writing at Newton South High School. Her work has appeared in The Exquisite Corpse (2001, ed. Codrescu); the Notes from Underground Anthology (2011, ed Michelle Davidson Argyle), and Nine Lives: A Life in 10 Minutes Anthology (2016, ed. Valley Haggard). She lives in Boston.
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