The Snake Poem by William Matthews

William Matthews

Cincinnati, Ohio

The Snake

Rating: 3.5


A snake is the love of a thumb
and forefinger.
Other times, an arm
that has swallowed a bicep.

The air behind this one
is like a knot
in a child's shoelace
come undone
while you were blinking.

It is bearing something away.
What? What time
does the next snake leave?

This one's tail is ravelling
into its burrow—
a rosary returned to a purse.
The snake is the last time your spine
could go anywhere alone.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: snake
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William Matthews

Cincinnati, Ohio
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