Matthew David Manning- A Poem

Matthew David Manning is a poet and instructor at Pittsburg State University (PSU) in the Intensive English Program. Matthew holds degrees in creative writing from Arizona State University and PSU, and has been published or has forthcoming poetry in such publications as Rust + Moth, velvet-tail, Eunonia Review, 150 Kansas Poems, and Chiron Review. Matthew recently returned from spending two years teaching creative writing in Suzhou, China.

Website:

www.mattwritenow.com

The Movement Underneath

1.

I had left the backyard to itself for too long.

Getting rid of the rusted cans was the first step.

Some were buried in the soil

as cheap planters or children’s secret places. 

My dad threw one back on the ground

with two snakes still inside. Yellow touches red,

you’re dead I read aloud from my phone

trying to decide if the colors were touching.

The snakes sat still long enough to grab a pole.

The larger one, toothless, mouthing words

I didn’t know, wrapped enough to let me toss it

into the alley. The other one, still in the can,

was easier to throw over the fence.   

2.

Because of the first, I imagined finding more

when I removed the carpet from the mound of dirt.

We watched the pile of stone-colored snakes feel the sun

in surprise. They had made tunnels for the beetles

to come in and out. Leave them there, my father told me,

They’ll find a new place where they feel safe.

When rain started falling, the movement grew. Crickets

crawled on snakes, and spiders avoided the centipedes

like they’re already used to sharing their cold wet home.  

3.

When I dumped a large piece of carpet into the trash

three snakes, and a toad fell out. The snakes I swept

into the front yard, their bodies flailing off the husks

of my broom. The toad, though, escaped through a hole

in the garage floor where I could only see sawdust.

I imagine there’s more underneath the garage

than I know about. I wonder if he’d have to die

in order for me to feel better, or whether I’d ever be happy

until I could peel the garage from the ground

to be sure of the movement or stillness that surrounds me.