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 zines such as Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Halcyon Days and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane Press and Poppy Road Review anthologies. She has been nominated four times for Best of the Net.