Night – Joan McNerney

Slides under door jambs,
pouring through windows,
painting my room black.

This evening was spent
watching old movies.
Song-and-dance actors
looping through gay,
improbable plots.

All my plates are put away,
cups hanging on hooks.
The towel is still moist.

I blow out cinnamon candles,
wafting the air with spice.

Listening now to heat
sputtering and dogs
barking at winds.

Winter pummels skeletal
trees as the moon’s big
yellow eye haunts shadows.

About the contributor: Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in over two hundred print literary magazines, journals and anthologies. The internet has provided an even wider platform for her work and she has four Best of the Net nominations. Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon.