this vapid tension
is our blueprint
we could tear it down
but we don’t
© 8.28.12 heather brager
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
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
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
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
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