Shhhhh...
There is a
witch living
on the corner
where the four
roads meet.
Her eye is
evil, her
nose crooked.
She lays down
the tarot
pattern
with wrinkled
hands.
Asks "do you wish
tea of wormwood
or henbane?"
She will enchant
your mind now
into fields of
wild roses.
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.
Methuselah Speaks
Living in shadows I scarcely stir.
Each motion brings pain with fear
of falling, breaking brittle bones
or bruising my spider web skin.
I see so little. Sunlight blinds my
rheumy eyes. Night dims my world
leaving just vague outlines.
Food is stale, bitter. Thirst savage.
No liquids quench me. My bodily
functions often fail befouling me.
All these years weigh down my soul.
Hearing faded, everything in whispers.
My breath is raspy, without strength.
My mind dull with defeat. I count only
my losses and remember nothing
but the dead. My memory is pain.
I cannot celebrate births. My great
grandchildren died so long ago.
Why must I always wait here?
God, have you forgotten me?
Joan
McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such
as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Camel Saloon, Blueline,
Poppy Road Review, Spectrum, three Bright Hills Press Anthologies and
several Kind of A Hurricane Publications. She has been nominated three
times for Best of the Net.
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