Poems
by Richard LeDue

 

 

The Sacrilegious Present

 

Listening to Brahms

speaking from beyond death

through a cello

on a thrift store CD,

cheapens my own voice,

making it feel sacrilegious

towards the gods and afterlife

we created

through public domain.

 

 

 

 

 

Something Beautiful

 

Wanting to create something

beautiful, only to remember roses

left in a vase too long:

dried out and brittle,

only to collapse at my touch,

 

and so this poem becomes

just more wilted petals.

 

 

 

 

 

My yellowing teeth

 

want to believe

that I have more in common

with snowflakes

landing on my tongue,

rather than footprints

going in circles

and always arriving back

at those 7 AM conversations

with myself.

 

 

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