His days marched in place
days like tin soldiers each one
pushing the next aside.
Hurry, hurry before it is too late...
inside a gaping hole to be filled.
More and more of the surface
of his life was covered by dust.
The hallway gave off a musty odor.
Night after night, lights burned.
Busted dreams heaped in boxes.
Black marks covered floors.
Less and less energy to clean up.
His body betrayed him, both his
bones, his breath betrayed him.
One edge of his room spoke to
the other. His fan purred all summer,
basement furnace heaved all winter.
This incessant sigh gathering dust.
compared to train
speaking for itself
in no language
to what we do not know
plans of distant stars
galaxies floating as
Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days. Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work. Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations.