An Open Window Sounds The Same as Years Ago
written by: Richard LeDue
@LedueRichard
The empty air full of cold
silence is like ghost breath,
if the dead had to breathe,
yet they only do in our heads,
reminding me of a case of beer
my mother bought to offer guests
one Christmas Eve, but we drank it
all, while talking to her brother,
who is dead now
and my cousin (drinking rum
eggnog), who is also dead now.
Now noiseless nights snore,
giving me a reason to close my eyes,
pretending to dream, even if I still
hear all the gone laughter
only getting louder,
as I close the window
out of fear of rising heating costs.
Richard LeDue (he/him) lives in Norway House, Manitoba, Canada. He has been published both online and in print. He is the author of ten books of poetry. His latest book, “Sometimes, It Isn't Much,” was released from Alien Buddha Press in February 2024.
Latest posts by Richard LeDue (see all)
- Making Love Less Abstract - November 14, 2024
- It Took 42 Years For Me To Realize This - July 29, 2024
- An Old Poetry Book - May 17, 2024
