like firecrackers in a backyard
(my father had one put down his shirt
by his friends when he was a child),
sipping my second coffee
as streaks of light sneaked in
the venetian blinds on the basement window,
and it was then, I thought I heard god,
the same way you listen to neighbours
upstairs, getting ready for work,
turning off the radio.
Years later, Sunday at 9:31 AM,
that same voice returned,
while I changed my five year old’s
diaper, moved my toes, gone cold
from too many windows left open
overnight, hoped my wife’s migraine
dissipated by lunch, only to realize
I’d been talking to myself all along.
Richard LeDue was born in Sydney, Nova Scotia, Canada, but currently lives in Norway House, Manitoba with his wife and son. His poems have appeared in various publications throughout 2019, and more work is forthcoming throughout 2020, including a chapbook from Kelsey Books.