Scott Beckett is studying History and Creative Writing at Western University. He previously had poetry published in the online journals The Rusty Toque and Occasus. He likes puppies, and movies that do not make any sense.
The crowd is as thick as the smoke in the air.
His steps are calculated, keeping his distance
from the young bodies that dance around him.
Hands float through the air, reaching for anything
but he returns to the wall, to wait until he is brave enough . . .
I never got a good photo of him.
Over two months,
I got only body parts
dismembered from each other.
Even though they were behind
the listless traffic cops filtered all the life out
of even a torso wrapped in a plaid shirt . . .