Friday, October 31, 2014

parenting from the slow lane.

please stop panicking
the debate is broadcasted
what time is the bus


© 10.31.2014 heather brager 

Monday, October 27, 2014

excavation.



the house is quiet before dawn
ashes in the fireplace 
and remnants of dinner in the sink

tepid glass of diluted scotch on the coffee table
I reach out to touch the wilting flowers

coffee is beginning to brew while
I stoop and peer upward
millions of stars and the same black sky
for a moment I forget where I am

I am climbing a tree before sunrise
listening for the coyotes
I am 2300 miles away, running at 4:00 a.m.
icy air biting my face and  hands

I am driving 65 mph south to Boston
lost in the sea of banality
and the clock continues to tick

I check the time and exhale
the quarry is loneliness

as I pour your cup of coffee
I wonder if a light will be on upstairs
and why we try to kill each other
before we kill ourselves


© 10.27.2014 heather brager  



Tuesday, October 7, 2014

pisces.



in an epoch when
she is imprisoned under ice
radiance washes over her from
a leaden and silent expanse above
hair pouring outward
framing a pallid expression
no longer composed
of resistance and fear of flight
her life of faint sketches on pages
fingerprints near the exits
the collapsing words
of unwritten memoirs
dissipating into murky green

© 10.7.2014 heather brager