LONELINESS IS RARELY IMAGINED
by Richard LeDue
Because The Doctor Recommended Walking
Noticed a truck parked at your apartment,
and wonder if you’re seeing someone new.
Why do my legs betray me nightly,
conspire with restless hands,
who miss the fingerprints they left to you?
Neither of us believe in heaven,
so how is this hell so real?
Blowing snow might as well be ash
falling from the devil’s beard,
his laughter the cold wind
I can’t escape.
In Bed With a Fever
Evening breeze sneaks in,
cool against goosebumps,
even under blankets meant for two.
Beads of sweat are lies told
by a bored forehead,
who misses your nightly kiss.
Beneath dry tongue, sad words
scrape open cankers;
mouth stinks of pennies.
Pills help my temperature
countdown until darkness
can claim what’s left of me.
Sleep brings a memory from summer:
you bra-less, soaked like a flower in rain,
your hand buried in my pants,
heat embraced until our bodies
beg us to stop-
we were never good listeners.
Loneliness is Rarely Imagined
I want to walk and count snowflakes
with you, only to stop:
hood peeled back, hat fallen,
palm naked on red cheek,
fingertips warm against cold neck-
meticulous as old love poems
no one has the time to write anymore.
But instead, my footprints punctuate
another day’s end, and your’sgo in the opposite direction.
About the Author:
Richard LeDue was born in Sydney, Nova Scotia, and has been a teacher for twelve years. He currently lives in Norway House, Manitoba. He has work that will be published in the upcoming winter issue of Tower Poetry.