In response to the film A Single Man.
Falling is like this,
falling into the night’s first vivid dream,
twitch and release of held-tight muscles.
Try and make yourself think
of anything good—
an owl lifting from its post toward the moon,
but because you knew from the start
he would try to die,
your dream is tied up
with ringing telephones and lost loves.
When I look at my best photograph,
I see my eyes are calmer and more determined.
Now, in the mirror,
great saucer-wide pupils,
and I suspect the white pill
that gets me out of bed.
When you think you have made progress but you haven’t,
or when you think some specific hurt is healed
and you don’t need to fix it anymore,
then you recognize in the scent of a familiar soap
that the sadness is not gone,
the vibrant green basil plant
in the brown terracotta pot,
made you so happy this morning
but tonight does not.
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.