Days marching by like an army
daydreaming about death,
while we hide in our cellars,
french-kissing peace,
only to realize how toothless
love can be when we’re alone,
fantasizing enough
to make our feet go to sleep,
and the bombs prove they’re real
by separating arms from bodies,
lovers from those who can’t help
but bleed as an answer to shrapnel,
which leaves the night
offering darkness as comfort,
until the sunrise ruins it all
by reminding us what we’ve lost.
Richard LeDue (he/him) lives in Norway House, Manitoba, Canada. He has been published both online and in print. He is the author of eight books of poetry. His latest book, “Secondhand Salvation,” was published from Alien Buddha Press in February 2023.