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"Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard." Anne Sexton 

Heather Brager is a critically acclaimed juggler of calamity, an accomplished procrastinator, and shuffler of idioms. Her poetry and drawings can be found in various digital and print journals around the globe, and on the web.  She currently resides in New England and prefers the precipice of where the Atlantic meets the sand to the official looking office where she spends most of her time. 

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

acting a fool.

we are bound to ourselves
melted styrene fused to fingers
brittle bones soldered to wires, just
marionettes of our own devising

trust is the blanket of nightfall
a backdrop on the stage
hand drawn with silhouettes
stippled across a faraway landscape

then, hot white burning light
brought in quickly to illuminate
oh, darkness we lie, we lie to   
overcome our slippery plots

terror always ends the same, the
same closing credits, same storyline
the same puppets left alone
and the ovation is forgone



© 3.28.2017 heather brager





Friday, March 24, 2017

muddy water.

does she descend upon your
grayscale, or tender

unacknowledged
criterion with need

carefully spelled
in musical interpretation
and intricate visual renderings

does harmony seep through the
dark irises and cochlea, soaking

through to your muscle in
ochre, hemorrhaging sanguine

do you love as deeply
as the outlined concepts, to
bend time over expansive

depths of circumstance, or
do you feel in sepia, and

stop breathing in dreams




© 3.24.2017 heather brager



Thursday, January 26, 2017

9:13 p.m.

and the ascent to
your door, inhaling the
shameless dusk that heralds
you, a blade unwavering
wrapping itself around
two pieces carefully
held, hard charcoal and
powder soft chalk, your
words outlined by
panic creeping along the
outskirts, the solid red then
tapping on glass, quiet
steps in the dark sliding
back to warmth, contrast
tied but barely, fused



© 1.23.2017 heather brager

Monday, December 12, 2016

give me two minutes.


what if I am
just running in place
still circling back to our own
familiar and situational tragedy
back to late summer into the fall
the way I let your eyes pin me down
the way your coy hesitation
is still sneaking through my door
back to being drunken on
this spell that ignites
between us as you nervously
remove your jacket, back to you
yielding and shy and tender
while you proceed to grip
my jeans and peel off my clothes
back to me feeling helpless
and you cannot possibly love her
back to I know why you are here
and you are in denial
the way you are circling
like a beautiful wolf, or a
moth to a porch light
back to stop lying to yourself
and what if it is you
back to who deserves this magic
and this is the truth,
not what you go back to



© 12.12.16 heather brager


Thursday, December 1, 2016

little white lies.









while we lie awake, nursing
our intrinsic fabrications
each association fragile, subjective

this liquid want with teeth
and confusion with soft skin
just speak the truth, confront

the fear chasing you down
wait patiently for the explanation 
you have already accepted lie, upon lie

then your beautiful face, your arms in total
darkness, indistinguishable from hope,
she can see clearly through

the air that quietly cradles deceit
the soundtrack steadily building,
waiting for the next projection

with vulnerability processed as data
a blatant delusion, of passion becoming
enough, or even something like truth



© 12.1.16 heather brager



Saturday, November 19, 2016

you may never know.



she carries crooked years
tucked neatly in both pockets

hands full of hard lessons
trailing behind like crumbs

she is not lost and
does not beg to be found

she will feed you and quietly
watch you sleep on her pillow

with splinters and hope
she will be gone by dawn


© 11.19.16 heather brager

Monday, November 14, 2016

things I don't say.



whether or not
you comprehend, I can
see through the beautiful
skin stretched
across your chest
to the cells colliding
behind your rib cage.
you think you
control your heart
the direction that
blood flows, the valves
and complex mechanisms
that make you stand
here in my kitchen
wondering what it
is that you want
my fingers long
to slide behind your
ribs and wrap
themselves around
feel the gentle pulse
to solve all of the
mysteries of
this moment
but don't worry, I will leave
it there because it
doesn't belong to me.

© 11.15.16 heather brager