Monday, December 29, 2014

gravity always wins.




pluck the imitation bird from the branches
with stinging fingers,
smelling sickeningly of flowers

the tentative winter, wretched and floundering
clips your wings and the decrepit limbs
cracking loose, losing only to reach skyward

slumped low, sewing unbearable wounds
to wounds, and to the wounds
breathing fetid and discarded things
we walk away from ourselves
a recurrence, the approaching
steps echoing through a hallway
with a likeness of the way out,

just pluck me from the branch.


© 12.29.2014 heather brager 

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

slip knot.



this is who you are
we paint colors on the walls
your blood, or the sun


© 12.16.2014 heather brager