unmeasured.

our deep breaths
are sometimes months in the making
with time standing, stooping
cradling our hesitation and worry
with days striking, stretching,
urging our constant hurry

in various rooms, the vacuum
and tenderness the dust
on the uppermost shelf

we weave every feast
and sharpen our knives
mornings shove us out of doors
we are found, front and center
with our minds, wandering
fetching and cataloging
in particulars and sealing deals

with pleasure in hidden devils
for a moment of couched reprieve
and coveted, unmeasured relief


©11.18.2010 heather brager