Joan McInerney

Butterfly

Wrapped in ashen clouds

pale shrouds of sadness.

Retracing each dimension of

my heart yet finding no refuge.

My head bent recounting

all the days of my life.

Lost in this blur, this landscape.

Where am I? Where can I go?

Wanting only one fine thought to

fill this empty haze of hours.

One fine contour, touch, color,

one fine tone to breach the silence.

Who stole my sparkling sky

leaving only memories?

What remains is only minute after

minute of more and more loss.

Always searching to find harbor in

oceans where waves rise to heaven.

Within deep quiet, small awakenings begin.

Fragile butterfly…radiant blue winging up up.

Live Oak Boughs

Boughs build archways as tips
of trees touch each other. What
was shaded green becomes
nocturnal shadow. A crescent moon
hangs from heaven. Light tracing
foliage falls dropping
dusty deep upon ground.

Secrets lie inside edged shadows.
Animals hide under darkness
resounding through night
as leaves rustle. All changing
except this pattern of what
is now formed.

When The Moon Is New

Groping through darkness

knocking everything down.

Down into enormous night

where thoughts unravel.

Memories moan past us as

shadows quiver across walls.

We lie pinned to bed sheets

like captive butterflies.

Dry butterflies, our throats

are brittle, eyes turning

from light. Sore arms reach

for anything soft to hold.

Remembering seasons gone by.

So many lost promises.

This huge moment surrounding us.

Wide awake we wait for the new day.

Nightscape

Fog horns sound though

air soaked in blackness.

All evening long listening

to hiss of trucks, cars.

Shadows brush across walls

as trees trace their branches.

Gathering and waving

together then swaying apart.

While I sleep, stars glide

through heaven making

their appointed rounds in

ancient sacred procession.

Dreams as smooth as rose

petals spill into my mind

growing wild patches in

this dark garden of night.

Almost Asleep

Curling into a question mark

eyes shuttered

lips pursed

hands empty.

Dropping through

long dusty shafts

down into dank cellars.

Leaving behind faded day.

That last cup of sunlight

pouring from fingertips.

Lulled by rattling trains,

sighs of motors.

Bringing nothing but

memory into night.

Now I will untie knots

tear off wrappings opening

wide bundles of dreams.