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. 

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

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