Grace Mathews

 

 

Motion Parallax

 


I found it easy then, sticking my neck out
over the balcony to catch droplets

 

in the first rain. I watched people running
naked in the moonlight, looked away when

 

familiar bodies passed. No, I could not
bring myself to join, but peeled off enough

 

layers to feel the moisture. This was
a different city, different air pressure.

 

Now, with the U-Haul due in a few hours
I’m still fiddling with my goggles, fog

 

seeping in. My father tells me the ash
will suck everything out of my exposed

 

skin. Condensation feels greedy. Seeing
this feels greedy. I carry disintegrating

 

boxes down from the surviving garage.
Everything left had already been

 

forgotten. A collection of porcelain
dolls, decades of love letters from different

 

women. An old ottoman and yellowed
tupperware aren’t worth saving from the impending

 

storm. So they will stay here. I linger
at the top of the stairs. Weeks ago I could not

 

have known this view would ever change,
making this perch an island. I watch neighbors

 

sift for engagement rings and cast iron.
I can see lost structures laid atop
 
their remaining foundations like blueprints
on old projector slides. A couple stands
 
over what was once their dresser. Now a thigh
draws inwards as it can only do when
 
at home. Now they are climbing into bed.
A hand strokes a clock, fumbles for a toothbrush.
 
One neighbor admits she has been peeing
behind a rare house left standing. It is hard
 
to make eye contact when we discuss
who is staying, who is selling. My gloves turn
 
gray as my father and I shuttle more belongings
between us. Clouds whisper over the bald
 
hills but still no rain falls. No rain falls
until we are in my car, when he seems
 
to forget the way to his new apartment.
The mountains shudder in my rear view mirror.
 
The afternoon light like childhood. I am unsure
whether I’m approaching or retreating.
 
 
 
 

Grace Mathews is a poet and educator from Los Angeles, CA. She is currently pursuing an MFA from San Diego State University, where she teaches writing and serves as the social media editor for Poetry International. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Terrain.org, The Los Angeles Review,  Zone 3, and The Laurel Review, among others. 

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