Poetry: 1 Poem by Courtney LeBlanc
My Friend Offers to Read My Cards
and immediately says, Fuck, upon pulling two from the stack.
Bad? I ask, though obviously it is. An obstacle and a path,
she replies, laying the cards face up so I can read them.
The Firefly is the first card, the obstacle, and it tells me
the high-frequency cannot be sustained, that there is Firefly
energy behind every poem, that harnessing this energy
is vital yet potentially destructive. The next card, the path,
is The Hummingbird: the ability to find energy and positivity
and return to it every day. We both sit back, thoughts swarming.
So what does this mean? Related to my question? I ask.
She frowns, uncertain of the interpretation. Finally she asks,
What do you think? I pause, moving words around in my mouth, unsure
where to begin. I think I write poems about the destruction, to try to keep
it at bay, to keep the monster in the closet. I pause, my mouth suddenly
dry. And I think I have to find joy that I can have every day.
That I’m not constantly fighting for. She nods, agreeing.
When she pulled these cards I knew immediately what both the obstacle
and the path were. She knows of the broken bones and busted
plaster. She knows of the eggshells that line the floors of my home.
She doesn’t know of the one whose soft words fill my ears, how my fear
melts away when I’m with him.
I have a lot to think about, I finally say.
She nods and reshuffles the deck.