Three Poems by Richard LeDue

 

Years Later and Barely a Ghost

 

He was one of the greatest writers

for a while,

but now a lesson

of how dust isn't afraid of ghosts,

waiting to cover words

that were supposed to be haunt us

forever, not go out of print,

and be sold for a dollar on a discard table in a library,

eventually ending up in a thriftstore,

lost among cookbooks

as people shop for used underwear

while complaining about the prices

going up, and there's nothing I can do

or you can do, except accept

that dreaming of being a ghost on a page

is a paper-thin afterlife

at best.

 

 *

The Saddest Laughter

 

Standing closer than they need to

in an otherwise empty hallway,

but laughing loud enough to echo,

while they try to hide their separate darkness

from last night

as their dreamless eyes closed

tight- miles away,

yet together in hoping

that all they needed was sleep.

 

 *

 

 The Gall Bladder Blues

 

You ate some fried chicken for lunch

and now your gall bladder sings

a painful song only you can hear,

while your brain croons reassuring lyrics

about still being young at forty,

how not remembering your dreams at 6 AM

is normal, that you can live

without a gall bladder...

and your heart hasn't said anything in years,

but plays a drum

because it has nothing else

to do.

 

__

Richard LeDue was born in Sydney, Nova Scotia, Canada, but currently lives in Norway House. Manitoba with his wife and son. His poems have appeared in various publications throughout 2020, and more work is forthcoming throughout 2020, and more work is forthcoming throughout 2021. His chapbook, "The Loneliest Age," was released in October from Kelsay Books.