on most days
By Joan McNerney
on most days i
just want to crawl back
to bed, never come out
become a turtle covered
by my hard shell
nothing appeals to me
not even food, just coffee
coffee more coffee
to keep awake
another hermit crab
who carries its home
sickened by shorelines
poisoned by oceans
climbing fearfully
thru this year…
dumb-struck by
disease and sorrow
i must keep going can’t quit
but would rather slither off
into some dark cave like
the spotted salamander
Eleventh Hour
By Joan McNerney
Wrapped in darkness we can
no longer deceive ourselves.
Our saccharine smiles float away.
We snake here, there
from one side to another.
How many times do we rip off
blankets only to claw more on?
​
Listening to zzzzzz of traffic,
mumble of freight trains, fog horns.
Listening to wheezing,
feeling muscles throb.
How can we find comfort?
Say same word over and over
again again falling falling to sleep.
I will stop measuring what was lost.
I will become brave.
Let slumber come covering me.
Let my mouth droop, fingers tingle.
Wishing something cool…soft…sweet.
Now I will curl like a fetus
gathering into myself
hoping to awake new born.
Joan McNerney's poetry is found in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days. Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Spectrum Publications have accepted her work. Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net. She has four Best of the Net nominations.