• Courtney LeBlanc

"Guilty" by Courtney LeBlanc


Guilty

I look like an unloved wife – brilliant

diamonds circle my finger promise

vows my heart is still trying to keep.

In hotel bars men buy me drinks and hope

for a night between my thighs.

Sometimes I let them

lean close, fingers grazing

my warm skin. My lips brush

their cheek before telling them

no. I leave with only their names

clutched between my teeth,

go to bed naked

but alone, feel guilty

for crimes I’ve not yet

committed.

*this poem borrows lines from thousands by

Lightsey Darst

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.


90 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Steve Henn

Are You Picking Up What I’m Putting Down? My GF tells me her new friend likes to lift I say I prefer to put down. Not to criticize your fitness by disparaging it but to never actually pick anything up

Three poems by Rodd Whelpley

A house is a thing you leave empty most of the day, except the dog who spits liquid on the bamboo floor, upset the moment you depart, licks it up then dozes everywhere but on his bed. You don’t know h

Two poems by Robert Strickland

The Literate City “The city is all right. To live in one Is to be civilized, stay up and read Or sing and dance all night and see sunrise By waiting up instead of getting up.” - Robert Frost, inscr