Tinder Bio for the End Times
by Nina Dumornay
(after “Post-Factual Love Poem” by Paul Guest and commentary by Ella Risbrodger)
I am looking
For someone to catch me when we fall
into
the void,
for a knit
jumper against which to brush my fingers as we drop
out of sight, cascading
down and down and down
like snowflakes in the dark, like ice breaking over ice, we are cold.
And there is still so far to go.
It is dark
up ahead as shards of broken night plummet from the sky; we make a last-minute left turn and we are wasted
in wood and bramble,
I am looking
for someone to catch my
breath when I heave for the last
time, when my
throat is scrapped raw and our ears are ringing from the rapture, when the wind whirls and whips,
circling like a figure skater, honing in like a drone, I am looking
for the hand I will recognize though my eyes are blown too wide
to see, let me know if
that's you, if you, too, let me
know what I can do:
Me, hair primped in powder pink hues, skin-tight and cracking over hands, winter ash slathered in salve
Me, Malta bottle in the corner, months old and preserved,
3mm knitting needles, sewing needle, thread and button in my wallet– I will stick you/ stitch you and your glove and your shirt sleeve back together if I can, cut the tag from your button-down,
Me, long socks and pyjama tops and catch-your-eye eyewear on the way to the doctor, tension headaches and dizziness, clutch
the handle of the fridge door before the tiled floor’s smooth chill,
Me, the pain in my cheeks like a curtain call, drop the act and my smile and my shoulders when I’m out of sight, like a python, unhook my jaw and let the tension seep out,
You, slinking in to view, what has the conveyor belt brought us this time, a new model, nothing we’ve seen
yet, shine a spotlight an contestant #4, YOU
LOOK!
promising
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