“Sensualist,” by Connie Voisine

Poetry faculty member Connie Voisine was recently featured in the LEON Literary Review. Read an excerpt of “Sensualist” below:

Sensualist

Just like Saint Julian, you met a handsome stag in the forest
who told that you would kill someone, that you might wake

to bloodied hands, mud on your shoes, unsure 
of what has been dream and what is memory.

A whole family gone—off a cliff, shot in the kitchen,
children, etc. The mother is often the one who’s

found dragging her dying self towards a phone, a knife,
a son who may be the shooter, or it was another 

troubled one. A lover caught in a bed, a neighbor stumbled 
into wreckage, attempted heroism, foster children

too, dead. S/he/they would not have done this horrible 
thing and I would like to think I would not have

become the time bomb we often discuss and ticking…

Read the rest of this poem, as well as an additional poem by Voisine, here: http://leonliteraryreview.com/issue-8-connie-voisine/