Wednesday, August 29, 2012

8.28.12

this vapid tension
is our blueprint

we could tear it down
but we don’t


© 8.28.12 heather brager

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

the weight.



in the early years, you
could see a fragile shell
in the shape of a woman
as she passed by back-lit glass
you even fabricated her
bewildered and powerless
and maybe you wanted her
to be alone, but she would not

she carried your children, through it
and after it had ended
while you spun and vindicated
your sour emptiness
she was permanent, and she
saw you looking back
over your shoulder
at a woman who would not
come undone


© 8.22.12 heather brager

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

95 degrees and smoke.


this valley is a cage.

majesty sought
from other places and states
of mind on bright
cool mornings
we still admire the sky
the towering cliffs
the endless expanses
rolling out of sight

we are insignificant.

when the smoke
filters in
the dry red sun
dog days of august
her burnt clouds 
hanging low
touching our heads
her belly pressing us
to the ground

we think of the ocean.


















© 8.14.12 heather brager

Friday, August 10, 2012

dream replete.




she will not open the door when you knock

her hands will be busy
in the sink washing dishes
she’ll rinse them and turn slowly
smelling of lemons

she will walk down the hallway
vanishing from your sight
she will not know you 
could see her

she will not answer the phone when it rings

she will feel the light
change in the room
and roll over in blankets
murmuring softly
hair smelling of lavender 

she will not see hours fading
across the bare walls
she will awaken, thinking
she saw you standing at the door



© 8.10.12 heather brager

Monday, August 6, 2012

sample.


I try to comprehend
the goddamn patterns
shifting
slanting
twisting

if you bend something
enough times
it will snap in two

we’re all broken.

and the numbers repeat
dates
times
change
 
you always run out
when you
least expect it

then everything
shows up again


© 8.6.12 heather brager

Friday, August 3, 2012

summer nights.




we wait
for starlight
to cool the room

for time
to slow down
and take a breath

we wonder
if it will
catch us laughing
 

© 8.3.12 heather brager