“Is Living How We Die?”

Bones brittling like a toy rake
left out in the sun too long?

Hair failing out, as if pulled by the push
from the fantasy of a secret lover?

Eyes failing enough to show us death
knows nothing but success?

Wrinkles teaching us how smoothly
the years pass into our collective darkness?

Richard LeDue


If you have any thoughts about this poem, Richard LeDue would be pleased to hear them