Parallax, and: óculos

Abstract

Parallax, and: óculos Ananda Lima (bio) Parallax the moon fixes at us the circular visor behind the eye of a sniper the glass car window still nearby trees and electricitypoles run like a herd I heard my mother might want to speak to me or maybe it was a dream over here the days run scared like biggame there however many light seconds away nothing moves a mobile static in pursuit of me the moon has her own way of revealing herself she leaves the view -er to fill what is missing I cover her with my thumb make hermove around me closing my eyes in turnon the base of my nail a lunula my own little moon I wonder all this timedid I see some discarded clipping or the missing hemi- -sphere [End Page 78] óculos after lights outit occursto me I cansquint my way throughthe world but hehands me hisglasses I think lenscracked on the groundpicture concrete, picture bullypicture t-rex the movieswhen I was the childI tell him to closehis eyes keep themfrom us clayfigures in the darknessfrom each otherfrom fightingunshieldedthey turninward Isquinteyeson hisI think I can’ttell as I runmy fingers through his hairnow close them bebefecha os olhos [End Page 79] Ananda Lima ananda lima is the author of Mother/land (Black Lawrence Press, 2021, winner of the Hudson Prize), and four chapbooks. Her work has appeared in The American Poetry Review, Poets.org, Kenyon Review Online, Gulf Coast, and elsewhere. She has an MA (Linguistics, ucla), and an mfa (Creative Writing, Rutgers-Newark). Copyright © 2022 Ananda Lima