Voyeurs
We’ve become voyeurs
to her grief. In a sea of muted
colors we listen, tears sliding down pink cheeks
as she sings
the softest elegy
for her dead-too-young husband.
We wait
for her voice to break
to crack
to waiver
but it doesn’t,
she holds
the notes strong till the end,
then walks away
from the mic.
I don’t see her again, lose her
to the tsunami of the crowd,
swallowing her and her sons, their blond
heads disappearing before
I can push
my own condolences
into her hands. I can’t sing—not
tone deaf but don’t try
to stay on-key. Instead
I would read a poem and my voice
would probably break,
falter,
fail.
No one would find me the perfect widow.
I know she breaks
down:
sobs, screams, rages, swears, cries, begs
but none of this is witnessed.
I would not be
this contained.
I would be messy,
give the voyeurs the show they were
secretly craving.
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of Beautiful & Full of Monsters (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), chapbooks All in the Family (Bottlecap Press) and The Violence Within (Flutter Press). She has her MBA from University of Baltimore and her MFA from Queens University of Charlotte. She loves nail polish, tattoos, and a soy latte each morning.
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