MY FRIEND OFFERS TO READ MY CARDS
Courtney LeBlanc
Previously published by Spider Mirror Journal
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.
Cauldron Anthology 23