We trade weather reports like love
letters – you send a picture of the aquamarine
sky behind the verdant mountains that rise
up from the ocean, your smile in the middle
of the frame. I can almost smell the salt
water breeze as it tangles your hair. I respond
with a photo, my smile as bright as my umbrella
against the concrete sky.
It’s been raining for ten days – I crave sunshine
and your hands. You send a photo of a rainbow.
I recognize the street you live on, remember
each time I parked, walked into your house,
crawled into your bed.
There’s a thunderstorm tonight, loud
and bright. I sleep with the blinds open, watch
the lightning flash through the window. I tell
you I’m naked in bed, the room illuminated
with each crack. I can’t photograph the flash,
the lightning moving too quick to capture.
I send you a photo of my body instead, my skin
pale against the dark sheets. I wish
you were here, I say, knowing we’d fuck
hard and fast, the percussion of the storm
The next morning dawns clear and bright,
the storm pulling the clouds with it as it moves
up the coast, the azure sky a welcome
sight. The emerald grass sodden, the seeds
of desire pushing through the earth
of my heart, growing wild.
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of the chapbooks All in the Family (Bottlecap Press) and The Violence Within (Flutter Press) and is an MFA candidate at Queens University of Charlotte. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Public Pool, Rising Phoenix Review, The Legendary, Germ Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Brain Mill Press, Haunted Waters Press, and others. She loves nail polish, wine, and tattoos. Read her blog at www.wordperv.com, follow her on twitter: @wordperv, or find her on facebook: www.facebook.com/poetry.CourtneyLeBlanc.