With still more
to iron out than we have
since that day, my plans with you
are wrinkled from when I first asked
if we could live without children, and be happy.
Most days I know with resolve I will never be a mother.
Most days you hope I will change my mind. I know because
you’ve told me you cannot let go this plan you’ve had as long as you remember.
We’re as constant as our stars. I am Virgo, I am solitary and walk
like a nun in my silence, in all ways pure of intention, my earthen
solitude as comforting and individual as clothing, clean and unmarked.
But you are Scorpio, by water born, needing of that voyage.
And then our constellations weaving, warring in the marrow
of our worlds, almost irreconcilable but holding on
with some unnameable hope, and with your lust
hoping what was never in me returns.
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.