The Meaning of Fire
BY LORA MATHIS.
In the cool blue blaze, I am driving home.
The meal still in my stomach, the full day yawning into night.
Two or three nights a week I share dinner
with you and your dad. Tacos, pizza, something simple.
Once the plates are cleared I help spoon applesauce
and crushed meds into your mouth.
This is no longer shapeless grief, but habit.
The way life transforms once loss has settled.
Through my windshield I watch the clouds darken
to shadow as the moon gleams above,
its proud hands spread across its belly,
so large and brilliant as it settles into the flames.
Humming Downstairs
BY LORA MATHIS.
It was twilight. My mom was humming downstairs.
I learned how to walk so I could reach her.
I swayed on carpeted stairs.
When I fell, her singing caught me.
She said, When you were a child, you cried so much.
I had to keep going upstairs to console you.
Now I rush down the stairs in the home
I live in with five roommates.
Night twists in.
My legs will not work like they used to.
I walk and I fall.
I fall and I wait for singing.
When I get up,
my own voice finds me.
I keep looking for you,
until I reach a mirror.
Sleepless Years
BY LORA MATHIS.
It’s the way you realize how tired you are once you finally
sit down for the day
How you go to sleep tired,
wake up tired, imagining
someday your bones will suck
in the harsh exhaustion and solve it
You look out into your restless years,
and see yourself bumping into windows,
trying to find a place to retreat
A way of being is ending
Through this door is another way
Lora Mathis is a poet, writer, and visual artist. She has written three books of poems, including The Snakes Came Back (Metatron, 2023). She makes sculptures, paintings, photos, and likes to collaborate with friends. With the musician Matty Terrones, they released the live performance album Sediment (Hello America, 2022). They live in Oakland, by way of San Diego. You can more of their work at loramathis.com, and on Instagram @lora__mathis.