TV corpses the shape of closed books,
barely big enough to fill a sheet,
while a middle-aged married couple
talk in the dark about days
far enough in the past to bluff
as being more than just lost,
and the politician on the billboard
is at least shaped like a person,
smiling painlessly:
yellowed teeth photo-shopped white
and their slogan larger than their eyes.
It all leaves you with the smallest victories:
the last piece of cake on a Tuesday,
a good night’s sleep,
buy one get one free canned soup,
a friendly dog, too dumb
to know who you really are,
the cashier at the liquor store
calling you the wrong name for years,
yet when you tell your neighbor
you haven’t voted in decades,
they stop talking to you,
as if your truth was the sun
staring back at them,
further blinding them to the optical illusion
that makes life seem longer than it is.
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 released from Alien Buddha Press in February 2023.