Big Talk 

by Diane LeBlanc

 
I’ve stopped making small talk. 
When I meet neighbors on the sidewalk 
where our dogs sniff and circle, 
our Tai Chi of untangling leashes is enough
to render the moment sacred, so I say, 
“This can’t go on--the economy, the guns, so many bodies,” 
though I mean only to say that their yellow tulips
edged with red are welcome light after winter. 
I mean to say our new dark rooves pale the gray sky. 
I mean to ask if their coats are warm. 
But a few days ago I met a wild turkey in this same spot 
heading for the cul de sac where the pastor lives 
and I lost the last of little things to say. 
No prayer to send the bird on its way. 
No directions back to the prairie. 
No sprinkler warnings or storm drain promises. 
That turkey and I just let each other go the way strangers do, 
and I haven’t been the same since. 
Big talk erupts from me like dandelions. 
Don’t stand too long or I’ll tell you everything
I know about carbon emissions. 
I’ll ask if you knew the dragonfly whisperer who died last week. 
I’ll recite Yeats. 
And when I’m done, one of us will step aside, 
our dogs on short leashes, 
and we’ll nod and go our separate ways 
as I wonder if the kids named their sidewalk chalk people, 
gave them meaningful work, promised them immortality.


* * * * *

Diane LeBlanc is a writer, teacher, and book artist with roots in Vermont, Wyoming, and Minnesota. She is the author of The Feast Delayed (Terrapin Books, 2021) and four poetry chapbooks. Poems and essays appear in Bellevue Literary Review, Cimarron Review, Mid-American Review, and Southern Humanities Review, among others. Diane is a holistic life coach with emphasis in creativity practice. She is a professor and writer in residence at St. Olaf College. Read more at www.dianeleblancwriter.com.