“Welcome to My Dating Profile, Please Come Inside” by Hanna Pachman

Hanna Pachman


In this photo of me air kissing a mural
you will find the living room. 
Look at those curves and high ceilings. 
I do not have a lifelong disease.
In this photo of me practicing yoga
you will find the bedroom. So many outlets. 
Look how flexible I am. Imagine us 
trying positions together. 
I am not in chronic pain.
In this photo of me pushing off a wall
you will discover that when I laugh,
it ricochets from my gut to your gut, 
a trick of light. We have reached the balcony.
I am not on antidepressants. 
I am not here. I am just an experiment 
for you, an example of wanting.
I am not tears. I am a myth, 
like love or astrology or hell.
I am a room of stasis, without real plants.
I am waiting to be cut short 
from growing, from breeding, 
from going off and on
the house, the pills, your body. 
Come play with me.
My heart is a stuck sled in 
the middle of a sand mountain.
I am whatever pill I try asks me to be,
whatever spot you could find is yours.
There is no parking.

from Rattle #82, Winter 2023


Hanna Pachman: “A man from a dating application asked me to send him one of my poems. I wanted to share a poem about my chronic illness, but didn’t want to scare him away. My friend suggested writing a poem, in which I only aired all of my dirty laundry. This poem is for Claire Gavin.” (web)

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