Literary Yard

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‘Another Closed Door Midnight’ and other poems

By: Richard LeDue

Another Closed Door Midnight

The darkness always returns,
even if we bury ourselves under blankets
with a thread count we bragged about
while no one listened, as memories
of naked 1 AM (when time didn’t matter)
flutter like moths looking for a flame,
only to realize no one left the light on
above another closed door midnight,
as our snoring sneaks out a window
like young love, curious just enough
to always return home.


Snowflakes in an Ice Age

The soup hot enough to burn tongues,
but we still talk
about pension plans, inflation,
if there’ll ever be the right time
to retire,
as if our words snowflakes in an Ice Age,
our teeth glaciers who could never imagine
a future where they die,
and our voices blowing back and forth,
sounding more than accomplishing anything,
while the work day is deaf,
among our cracker crumbs.


Stranded Without Ever Going Anywhere

Memories of being told to be
a doctor or lawyer whisper
to themselves
like someone lost on an island,
who is dying of thirst
after scribbling SOS in the sand,
so oversized that it stops screaming
and seems more like an unfunny joke,
but it’s Friday night,
and a half empty bottle gives you enough
courage to look at life
in the eye and produce the only defiance
you have left in your forties,
pretending at the bravery you were taught
by toy commercials,
only to wake up Monday morning,
safe among mugs telling you
you’re the best at something.

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