on most days i


By Joan Mcnerney

just want to crawl back
to bed, never come out
become a turtle covered
by my hard shell

nothing appeals to me
not even food, just coffee
coffee more coffee
to keep awake

another hermit crab
who carries its home
sickened by shorelines
poisoned by oceans

climbing menacing
years … dumb-struck
after all those storms
diseases, accidents

i must keep going can’t quit
but would rather slither off
into some dark cave like
the spotted salamander

“i write because there is nothing else i would rather do.” – the poet

2 thoughts on “on most days i

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