Fernaldia pandurata and Diabrotica adelpha get symbiotic in Christie Pits

Fresh loroco, importing banned. Oblong

little smugglers, edible blossoms, green-

sheathed, pale inside. Insipid. Pandemic

first date in rain. Sipping cheap white wine from

a pink plastic cup, SLUT scrawled across the

bus shelter. I text a friend a selfie.

At least you don’t have herpes, she says, plus

a broken toe. Tastes green, like broccoli,

artichoke, or chard. Overtones of nuts.

High in niacin. Most vigorous vine,

finely pubescent, minutely hairy.

Upper leaves blunt at the base, the lower,

cordate. Heart-shaped. Bright pulse on tongue. The buds

an aphrodisiac, the root — poison.

Hands soft despite knife nicks, scorch scars. Nimble

tease, wet lips to collarbone as I come.

Between lockdowns, opens a restaurant

on his birthday. Then robbed, twice. Menus and

trauma monologues: curled fetal in the

back of his car after a bong hit, sure

of being hunted. The bridgetop panic

attack in New York for a death metal

show. How he sold his car and never drove

again. I offer doomsday cults, psych wards,

stitches, suicides. I may have been a

refugee, but you’re from Dunnville! Festive,

invasive, an orange-necked crop killer —

hard flea, tough to slaughter, dirty daughter.

Second date, asks if he can slap me. Where?

Third date, so worried he’s having a stroke.

Arteries tangled like reasons he thinks

his father left. We agree on nothing.

I win every debate. He admits that

it’s a turn-on. He pulls my hair when I

suck his cock, but never when I ask him

to. The midnight phone calls reading aloud

our worst reviews: This book’s so depressing!

or Why all the chopped cabbage?! I’m always

hungriest on the nights I most need sleep,

when every small delicacy unfurls

a threat. Don’t let go of me, he whimpers,

then recoils when I whisper, You can stay.

From acclaimed writer Jennifer LoveGrove comes an electric poetry collection exploring female sexual desire, contemporary dating, misogyny, and middle age that reflects and embodies our social media-saturated times.

Unabashedly confessional and radically vulnerable, The Tinder Sonnets rallies against the long-standing demand that “women of a certain age” politely accept being rendered non-sexual. Each poem is based on a date, relationship, or contemporary dating insight, and highlights how misogyny impacts the way we connect in the modern world–or don’t.

Juxtaposing folklore and the natural world against the digital sphere of texting and dating apps, this is poetry that defies invisibility and instead confronts and subverts it through a discerning feminist lens. While experimenting with the traditional form of the sonnet, these sonically textured poems are playful and wry, erotic and joyful, all while refusing to shy away from palpable anger, frustration, and disappointment.

Centering strength and resilience in the face of a resurgence of misogynistic chauvinism, The Tinder Sonnets is a staunch refusal to recede from view, to cede sexual space, or to be quiet and polite.

JENNIFER LOVEGROVE is the author of the Giller Prize–longlisted novel Watch How We Walk, as well as three poetry collections: Beautiful Children with Pet Foxes (longlisted for the Raymond Souster Award), I Should Never Have Fired the Sentinel and The Dagger Between Her Teeth. She is currently working on a new novel, and creative nonfiction. She divides her time between downtown Toronto and Squirrel Creek Retreat in rural Ontario.

Excerpt from The Tinder Sonnets by Jennifer LoveGrove

Power Q & A with K.R. Wilson