The Poetic Margin

Modern Love A poem about what we call 'love' in the digital age.   I Swipe left left left, Swipe right. Fingers sliding on a smooth surface Of seductive possibility. A soulmate must exist. He should be close enough, Hopefully of a considerable height, Looks alright, The rest can be taken care of.  II A desperate act taken for aesthetic. What are your plans for tonight? A casual search for a lover In the 21th century The human subject is replaceable No Orpheus will follow you to hell. Isis’s fidelity, after all, a myth. Love, instead, is forced, Like everything else, catalyzed, artificially hurried. Nothing comes naturally, Not any more.  III I remember how it felt, On our last sunny Friday encounter; When You laid principles of love to me. Soft, the kind of lover you were. I was too inhuman, I admit. Now I dream all-day, And long for the inscrutable all night. Now, now I stand, Where everything is made of sand. ...