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"Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard." Anne Sexton 

Heather Brager is a critically acclaimed juggler of calamity, an accomplished procrastinator, and shuffler of idioms. Her poetry and drawings can be found in various digital and print journals around the globe, and on the web.  She currently resides in New England and prefers the precipice of where the Atlantic meets the sand to the official looking office where she spends most of her time. 

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

a love poem.

when we spoke late that night
my voice the unfurling little frond
your words wrapped in cumulus clouds

I commented on your lack of accent

you drove for hours on
the day that my hot hands
smelled of garlic and finely minced shallots
freshly washed sheets on the bed
with a hint of delicious night
it was 98 degrees in the shade

you acted as if you weren’t afraid
were we as absolute as the sky?
you pretended I didn’t scare you half to death

the morning you drove east
oxygen crept slowly from every room
slipped from under the doorways
the barometric pressure drew me to the floor

I can’t remember if I asked you to come back

when we spoke late that night
my voice the branch and yours the vapor
we were actors and thieves
adding the seconds to moments

we didn’t fathom broken glass 

© 12.1.2015 heather brager

Wednesday, August 26, 2015


I am motionless, like you
breaking my own heart again
and again.  a cyclical sun doesn’t care who I am
doesn’t care how bright.

it is just another near miss.  teaching moments
stalk us like a predator
we track her prints through dense undergrowth
and she remains indefinable

I am still like you, while we speculate
if we should have designed
a plan when we saw the doorway
but, we are unwilling to lay down
our weapons.  we are unwilling to open the door

while reprieve evades us,
film clips flash across the darkness
there are pictures we will not forget,
reminders of why we break
our own hearts again, and again
we are the same, and you are my negative
I am still, like you

© 8.26.2015 heather brager

Friday, July 31, 2015

of wolves and fury.

I am wary of contentment.

a cloaked black wolf from the dream
her feet tough and dirty
from miles and miles of running
through swamps to arrogant mountain tops
back again, through the fire
that she started

I am wary of confinement.

speak softly and choose your words
before you touch my head,
prove me wrong
give me your air and open the door
stroke the tender vestiges of unfurling
hidden behind my teeth

I am suspicious, but not afraid.

© 7.31.2015 heather brager

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

high water mark.

would he recognize her
passing by
on the street

a blurred apparition in
his peripheral vision
a negative of the quiet
remaining memories

she is no longer captive
beneath his ribcage

remnants of her hair
her poetry
and her smell

washed away
by another trip
to the sea

© 7.29.2015 heather brager

Friday, May 29, 2015

tone deaf.

the rays of light are phantoms, repeating through the trees

she is followed home again

lost in captivity, defeat and dust in the ephemeral carnage 

a pulse from within a splintered masterpiece

the song wants out

she is the song, deafening and temporary

© 5.29.2015 heather brager 

Friday, April 24, 2015


sitting alone in my office
on the second floor
forty three miles from home
I still make believe that
I know what I am doing

success is inevitable,
loyalty is possible,
and my aging
body will once again fit
into those jeans
I have tucked away
on the top shelf

no one knows that I am  
a masterful actress,
an introverted mind reader, that
I balance plates heaped
with stereotypes, and
the drawings on the wall
are mine

© 4.24.2015 heather brager 

Thursday, April 2, 2015


a neon morning cradling the skyline
offers temporary blindness

coasting again, I stare it down
like you with the thunderstorm
when your words were the wind
in the beginning of this

a song about loving a girl
for a moment I search for who I was
and your voice is every voice
expectation kept me alive
and made me who I am

time trudges onward, the
bones scattered, gleaming white
across the high plans
where I sifted through vast emptiness
for all of those years

temporary blindness with
her voice calling me in
I am puissant and complete
her black wings silhouetted by
the purest sapphire sky

© 4.2.2015 heather brager