Making Love Less Abstract
written by: Richard LeDue
@LedueRichard
All that’s left of them is a shared tombstone
that took years to pay for,
and sometimes there’s flowers,
bouquets that smell of a grocery store
because the nearest town isn’t big enough
to support a florist shop,
and sometimes the snow falls early,
trying desperately to bury the buried,
so we might forget the way death lives
inside our foam mattress, especially on spring nights
when the moonlight clothes our naked bodies,
moving together in an attempt to make love
less abstract, and sometimes in the morning
we stink of each other before showering,
causing me to think of a shared gravestone
being not so bad,
when it belongs to other people.
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
