Because that would at least give me something
to write about. But I think of all the reasons I shouldn’t:
I’d have to wear something other than yoga pants,
have to go somewhere other than the grocery store
or the park because despite romantic comedies, I’m not
meeting anyone there. I’d probably need to not wear
a mask and with that realization my plan goes out
the window because no way in hell am I going
maskless around someone I don’t know. And no,
I didn’t include “because I’m married” to the list
because that’s a requirement for an affair. But this
idea fails, just as this poem is failing, so I saddle up
this sad pony and ride right off the page to the poem
graveyard, which is littered with bones of cliches
and repeated words (mouth, hands, touch, taste),
the discarded bodies of the lovers I’ve written
about endlessly, the images I can’t stop repeating,
the ocean in my throat that keeps drowning the words,
the death that haunts every line. When I get there
I settle onto the soft earth, dig my fingers into
the freshly turned soil and think of my father,
how he once saddled a cow and donned a wig
and rode it in a parade and how this remains
one of my favorite stories about him, how it made
the front page of the local paper, how my mother still
has a copy. And I think of how, under that hot July
sun, I held him in my hand, opened my palm,
and the wind tornadoed him back to the land
he loved. To the land that grazed cattle ad grew
crops and I decide maybe I do have something
to write about.
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of the full length collections Exquisite Bloody, Beating Heart (Riot in Your Throat) and Beautiful & Full of Monsters (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press). She is also the founder and editor-in-chief of Riot in Your Throat, an independent poetry press. She loves nail polish, tattoos, and a soy latte each morning. Read her publications on her blog: www.wordperv.com. Follow her on twitter: @wordperv, and IG: @wordperv79.