Same Tired Walk

She notices them peripherally.
By this, I mean they return—
the storm clouds—in various forms,
but she doesn’t connect them,
always expects them to pass.
Such obvious patterns,
almost obscene in their similarity—
the same tired walk of two people holding hands,
an umbrella, an ambiguous walkway,
always the question of streetlamps and perspective—
but she doesn’t connect them,
or rather, when she does,
she thinks everything will line up.
She thinks this time might be lucky,
lucky because it imitates so exactly the past,
where she is trying to go.

Jennifer LeBlanc earned an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University. Her first full-length book, Descent, was published by Finishing Line Press (2020) and was named a Distinguished Favorite in Poetry (2021) by the Independent Press Award. Individual poems have been published in journals such as The Adirondack Review, CAIRN, The Main Street Rag, and Melusine. Jennifer was nominated for a 2013 Pushcart Prize and works in the English Department at Tufts University.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.