Tuesday, November 25, 2014

playing our song.



you are a forgotten verdict
the familiar place for a pessimist
you fondle our dissonance
like a naked talisman

my lexis bent in your hand
left against my teeth
echoes from dusty rooms
that I am worthless and weary

we sweep up the glass
ruins in incoherent fragments
the years writhe into idioms
as I drive against the wind


© 11.25.2014 heather brager  

3 comments:

  1. The leaving days always have one thing in common, that we wish we had gone one day sooner.

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  2. A left against your teeth? Tell me this is fiction. Because I felt it, all over again, just like it happened. Then thinking it may have happened to you made me feel it in the solar plexus. Excellent poem, Heather. Your gift just keeps getting stronger.

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  3. ... you know I speak in metaphors, similes and idioms...

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