Poems
by Richard LeDue

 

 

Our Collective Silence

 

Wispy clouds aching for a metaphor,

while all we see is a headless dove

among a sky zoo

that proves how captive we are

to our imaginations.

 

Our own personal wars raging

inside heads,

where our collective silence

is a firefight over a few yards of dirt

we refuse to believe a soul.

 

Our white flag made of binge watching,

reposting funny memes,

and celebrities

fooling us into seeing our couch

as a victory parade.

 

All of us losers:

owning nothing,

eating poison

too blatant for secret ingredients,

defeated long before we die.

 

 

 

 

 

At Least It's Something

 

Losing a staring contest

with the Northern Lights,

only to close my eyes and wonder

if they're god waiting

for another church

ruined by tone deaf hymns or science

looking to be unravelled

like a mess of cords

behind a big screen TV,

but at least it's something

that makes me think

about the dust

being another sibling I barely talk to

because it proves we might just be

a speck against a black curtain

we call “the universe.”

 

 

 

 

 

More Loneliness Than Hellos

 

The snow whites out more love

than it should these days,

leaving our breath to dance

its way into the Milky-way

alone.

 

Our unsaid words afraid of being

buried because of snowball futures

thrown at no one,

although we're certain

someone is aiming to hurt us.

 

Watching our own footprints

without noticing we're lost

inside a circle shared with so many,

who also don't see the way out

a hello.

 

 

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