A Poem by Thea Matthews: ‘At a Family House Party in San Jose, California’

Nobody notices when a contemporary stem of child’s breathfalls right into a pool. As a substitute, competition among the many fangssimmers with rolling eyes, laughter, and barbecue.Everyone seems to be testing one another. Backhanded commentsclamor for consideration. The egg timer is on, ticking untilanother battle breaks. As time ticks, the primary escape,a splash, goes undetected. The lady descends to wherelight stops reflecting secrets and techniques tanning beneath the solar.She falls away from shadows pointing fingers.Rigidity subsides and the faces fade. She sinks deeperinto the black pupil of a blue iris. Maybe she is going to finda god hidden in an oyster on the backside. With no air,there’s a stillness, besides when terror overcomesthe mom who reaches for the place her love started.This poem is from Thea Matthews’ new ebook, Grime.​While you purchase a ebook utilizing a hyperlink on this web page, we obtain a fee. Thanks for supporting The Atlantic.