‘The Titular Line’ by Kari Flickinger

Final words “You haven’t heard the last of me.” But these are your final words! Or, were they mine?
by T.W. Selvey

The Titular Line

I have been dreaming 
I am running out of time.

I return from the dream
with names. In a midday
waking world, I google 
names from my dreams.
 
Find each name inches 
me closer 
to this constellation 
immaterial—dense 
clouds of academia. Physics
articles that I tack together. 

Some version of me waded 
to the ankles in Literature. 
Psychology. Voice. But 
a poet can be a curious thing.

I am too thick outside 
of the dream. The folds do not 
quite comprehend. But I try.

Discover an eye in a chasm. A cliff.
Imagine time like a seismic rift—
an upwelling of mirrors. 

I steal lines from a past self 
as a message to a future self
from now, now, no now.

gr—
ground control 
we lay backmachine 
on the hood of a vehicleboat 
passed to him, it goes
backwards, he 
drives backwards 
more than forwards
reverse works
I, pliant to
fingers on the hood
watch the tiny
planes come in 
overhead, airport.
low pines
blink
grow their rhythm
then canvass
the depth of 
this hood, my cave
they move and shift
thank you
thank you
thankyoufor
cutting 
your nails, for
growing into
a man like my
husband.

Well, I hold my arms in the shape 
I think tectonic time would make 
and my fiancé laughs.

It is clear my imagination is much
stronger than my grasp of science.

Then. I am blessed with two 
nights of fabulous dream sex. 
Strange grasp. Wake with my hand 
on my breast, face my own dilated 
eyebrows in the mirror. 

The next night I go to a movie 
theater; the burgundy seats are torn 
fabric. A shift signifying time.

My cat is there as a human
man. So proud of him. What
a good grown up boy. He picks 
apart this film that is 
supposed to play, but never 
plays. I pat his hand the way my 
grandmother pat my hand at my 
grandfather’s funeral, and cat
and I laugh, cry—laugh—

Last night, I received 
two names. A betrayal
so cold, I wake with glaciers
encapsulating my teeth.
I know them well enough.

I do not google these names. 


Kari Flickinger is the author of The Gull and the Bell Tower (Femme Salvé Books, December 2020). Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and the SFPA Rhysling Award. She is an alumna of UC Berkeley and the Community of Writers.


Recently, T.W. Selvey’s work has appeared in The Babel Tower Notice BoardLigeia MagazineThe Pi ReviewFeraltalking about strawberries all of the time, and petrichor. T.W. tweets sporadically @docu_dement, and is the proud curator of a haphazardly curated blog, www.documentdement.com.