Here We Call the Rat Snakes Ralph | Dawn Manning

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4 mins read

 

                                                                                            After Arthur Sze

Here, the first Ralph leaves his skin
                        clinging to the cinder block wall.

Here, Ralph hangs his ghost by the mouth
                        from between the barn rafters.

Here, a six-foot scrim rasps with a paper tongue.

Here emptiness sways above
                        the dust motes with a tapered tail.

Here unspools the skein of muscle
                        from its punctured bubble wrap.

Here, eyes shed their orbs with the crepe of the whole.

Here, husks plaster the joist-wedged jugs
                        with last century’s forgetting.

Here bitters the gin and the Ralphs
                        that pull their hosts inside-out.

Here, outnumbered, we mind the local customs.

Here we stop heeding each scrape,
                        pause for the swallowed hush after.

Here we become Ralphs among Ralphs:
                        black pearls strung on knotted rope.

Here we echo in the eaves, cave in
                        with the cobwebbed wasp nest.

Here we empty every kink and curve
                        to the ground again.

Here we drag the twisting mass into the sun.



Dawn Manning is the author of Postcards from the Dead Letter Office. Honors for her work include the Beullah Rose Poetry Prize, the San Miguel Writers’ Poetry Prize, the Edith Garlow Poetry Prize, and being named a Mona Van Duyn Scholar at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. Her poems have appeared in 32 Poems, Ecotone, Prairie Schooner, and other literary journals. She resides in the former tollhouse of a covered bridge where she writes, consults, conjures, and metalsmiths. Find her at dawnmanning.com.