Friday, December 30, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
the shape of things.
in the early part of the dawn
this year, or some year to come
as her eyes trace light crawling
across a bedroom ceiling,
she can almost recall being
someone else
she can see a shadow
from a lamp on a kitchen table
in a yellow house on a tree covered hill
drawing the shape of a bird on a paneled door
a splotch of paint on a whitewashed porch
in the form of a shadowy man
who will sneak in through the darkness
and stretch across a little boy’s face and arms
she can hear echoes of dreams
drawing timelines of moments
that will arrive some January, or June
she can feel the lonely ache
of a woman on a corner bench
as she drives past in traffic
in the early part of the dawn
she watches patterns
sneak across a bedroom ceiling
while they try to elude her
and she can almost recall being
someone else
© december 19.2011 heather brager
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
an omen.
we are a pendulum, forward and backward
belief and disbelief, knowing
the sun always rises
then sets in the west
my eyes are diverted to the sky
the silhouette of a large bird,
the pitch of his calls remind me
my heart thinks in symbolism
and my mind assumes
he is in search of carrion
I blink and the Big Sky
swallows me whole
a lost northern girl, consumed
by the firmament
quietly, I am smothered
in the belly of the tundra
and your tail lights compete
with the rising sun
© december 2011 heather brager