Falling Down into dusty subterraneous passages where trains race. Silver rods sped through dream stations transforming tunnels with bolts of blue white sparks. On a steel car looking out the window. Careening in pitch black. On edge, through trees into lights, crashing fast against buildings. Forgotten Like a worn slipper still under the bed. Socks missing from laundry. Or that hard to find half rotten onion lodged at bottom of refrigerator. I am not important not significant unlike lost keys, legal documents, or financial papers. Not treasured or prized. worthless half rotten forgotten. I planted my garden on the wrong side of moon forgetting tides of ocean lunar wax wane only madness was cultivated there underground tubular roots corpulent veins flowers called despair gave off a single fruit... I ate it my laughter becoming harsh my eyes grew oblique.
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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 Journals, and numerous Poets’ Espresso Reviews have accepted her work. She has four Best of the Net nominations. Her latest title is The Muse in Miniature available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net