 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 has accepted her work. Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four e-books. She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net. All Fall Down Leaves toppling from trees fiery leaves red yellow green flames. Only this remains...smoky ends of days. Days like leaves crumbling, shriveled, tumbling down, falling to the ground. Scattered into an acrid mound. An acrid mound of sour roots. Our garden grew from the wrong side of the moon. Brackish vines are harvested there. Flowers of despair grew a single fruit. It tasted bittersweet. My laughter became harsh. My eyes grew oblique. I want to curse and cry against this world. Fine dreams stolen...ragged and torn like leaves blown in storm. Storm winds strangle treetops, shaking, foliage pulled from boughs. Broken by thunder pummeled through long nights Long nights heavy rains spilling black ink stains. There is no solution, another day done, another piece of the puzzle gone Ashes ashes all fall down what is lost cannot be found. Eleventh Hour Wrapped in darkness we can no longer deceive ourselves. Our smiling masks 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.
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