I opened my mouth to say something sweet, but you may notice the briny sea that lives beneath my throat, and all the sea monsters swimming off-map inside my belly. I wanted to say that I love you, but what comes out is horseshoe crabs in their full moon mating, thumping and swaying to bull kelp dances and seal songs. I wish I could speak in pearls and beautiful shells. Something you would like. I want to let you know you are precious. But the Scorpio stars are shining and the crabs are hiding in the bedroom corners. I am too busy trying to coax them back inside to write much more. So I'll just say, I love you, over my shoulder as quickly as I can before knuckling another crab down my throat, back into the starless sea.
Joel LeBlanc is a poet, pastry chef, medical herbalist and freelance writer. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals including Semaphore Magazine, Poetry NZ, and Takahe. Joel lives in New Zealand with his husband, 4 dogs and 2 cats – some of which may or may not have once been human.