The Trike Returns:
Ring
Judd Hampton
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Clean
Dry hands clutch a wooden scrub brush, bristles curled,
worn. A ring circles the bathtub at water level, white porcelain
scoured down to steel. Her flesh looks chalky, cracked. Her hands
move up and down the tub, scrubbing. The same song plays over and
over again in her head.
The bathroom door creaks open. She feels heat against
her back, a strong hand restraining her.
"Stop," he says, holding her, his beard rasping her
cheek.
She twists free from his grip, grabs a canister of
gritty cleanser, shakes it out. Powder rises in a cloud, drifts into
her lungs. She coughs, continues scouring the tub. The song
repeats.
He stands, says, "Why?"
She plunges an arm into the water, pulls the plug.
Water ripples away from her arm in expanding rings, mutating her
reflection. Now the song echoes in her head like hammers upon
steel.
She slips the gold band from her fourth finger, sets it
on the tub.
He picks up and throws the cleaning powder, smashing
the mirror. His footsteps fall away.
Sliding off the rim, her ring finds the drain.
~Judd Hampton
Judd Hampton lives in northern Alberta, Canada, among
the pump-jacks and canola fields. His work appears or is forthcoming
in Night Train, Unknown Writer, Bovine Free Wyoming, Outsider Ink,
Literary Potpourri, and Vestal Review. Email.
© 2002 by Judd Hampton. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated August 31, 2002.