"Miss Scarlet" | a poem by Becky Hixon

Very excited to have our first contribution to Outside the Atlas, which comes from second-year YEW intern Becky Hixon.  This is the first of many works to be published here & an excellent way to get "clued" in to what this project is about.  Enjoy & thanks to Becky for the terrific poem!

Miss Scarlet by Becky Hixon

The highest number goes first.

She swept into the room accompanied by the glow of a candle’s halo,

Gliding across the floor, her dress falling like water
Rippling across her thighs, her neckline plunging and diving into her
Breasts. Knock-knock.
Who’s there?

“Take your time,” they said, “take your time.”

It’s the Maid in her pressed, white apron carrying a plate of cheese knife and all.

She came by way of the passage from the kitchen
So as to avoid the long walk.
She handed the plate to the Colonel, the handiest with the knife
And he sliced off a piece for the man in the
Green suit and the woman with the Feathers, but she was busy
Talking to the Professor.

“Ask your questions,” they said, “ask your questions.”

And so I did.

I asked where they were. I asked what they held. I asked who they saw.
It was then they realized there was one among them who didn’t play by the rules.
I found the proof.
It came as specks of crimson crystal dotting the room next door.

“Play your cards,” they said, “play your cards.”

It was Miss Scarlet in the library with the candlestick.