give me two minutes.

what if I am

just running in place

still circling back to our own

familiar and situational tragedy

back to late summer into the fall

the way I let your eyes pin me down

the way your coy hesitation

is still sneaking through my door

back to being drunken on

this spell that ignites

between us as you nervously

remove your jacket, back to you

yielding and shy and tender

while you proceed to grip

my jeans and peel off my clothes

back to me feeling helpless

and you cannot possibly love her

back to I know why you are here

and you are in denial

the way you are circling

like a beautiful wolf, or a

moth to a porch light

back to stop lying to yourself

and what if it is you

back to who deserves this magic

and this is the truth,

not what you go back to

© 12.12.16 heather brager

little white lies.

while we lie awake, nursing

our intrinsic fabrications

each association fragile, subjective

this liquid want with teeth

and confusion with soft skin

just speak the truth, confront

the fear chasing you down

wait patiently for the explanation 

you have already accepted lie, upon lie

then your beautiful face, your arms in total

darkness, indistinguishable from hope,

she can see clearly through

the air that quietly cradles deceit

the soundtrack steadily building,

waiting for the next projection

with vulnerability processed as data

a blatant delusion, of passion becoming

enough, or even something like truth

© 12.1.16 heather brager

you may never know.

she carries crooked years
tucked neatly in both pockets

hands full of hard lessons
trailing behind like crumbs

she is not lost and
does not beg to be found

she will feed you and quietly
watch you sleep on her pillow

with splinters and hope
she will be gone by dawn


© 11.19.16 heather brager

things I don't say.

whether or not
you comprehend, I can
see through the beautiful
skin stretched
across your chest
to the cells colliding
behind your rib cage.
you think you
control your heart
the direction that
blood flows, the valves
and complex mechanisms
that make you stand
here in my kitchen
wondering what it
is that you want
my fingers long
to slide behind your
ribs and wrap
themselves around
feel the gentle pulse
to solve all of the
mysteries of
this moment
but don't worry, I will leave
it there because it
doesn't belong to me.

© 11.15.16 heather brager

everything you pretend to be.

why would he hesitate

her flesh beneath

the quiet beauty 

a quivering projection 

from somewhere overhead

without a forest floor

emptiness left downwind

skeletons reduced 

to pieces in a puzzle

his face turned south 

abandoned structures 

neglected grass calling  

shadows of canis lupus

her coat pale in moonlight

protecting his throat

© 11.11.16 heather brager

color.

now she may not be convinced that

you sense or observe the world

with the same spectrum of longing

though she willingly would

have taught you to breathe in aqua

and weave cerulean blue to the

rhythm of the salt lamp and vinyl

stroking the brilliantly acute contrast of

your skin deeper than marrow

she may have even come

undone and drifted a scarlet

bird over rippling water the

leaves fluttering close to autumn

though she was not persuaded that

you understood her language or

could grasp burning alchemy with

your soul tangled in the mires

of acceptable mediocrity

now she may know stories that you

never hear and see the complex

unraveling tied to choices that

have not yet come to be

though it will never truly matter if

the strands of her hair slipped softly

though your fingers and

the forgotten cerise mandala

never made its way into your pocket

© 10.27.2016 heather brager

siren.

I wish I knew that song
the one she played you like a fool
fabricated irresistible notes and bent
time in a gravity defying arc
that speaks words I have not learned
I can only offer my hands
knowledge I have gathered to my chest
an armful of autumn wheat
gentleness I have left
like pebbles to the trail home
so keep the pieces you have saved
the bucket of curved shells and 
lifeless flowers slumped dry
now that the water has evaporated
while I send another song

© 10.20.2016 heather brager

no.

was it home at last
or another version of
my wandering soul

give it up (because...simpatico)

three times she left the house

hand prints ultraviolet, smudges

on the face of a ticking clock

following the blue line back, because

everything beautiful is broken

how quickly she forgot that

the music was not for her

his soft pulses of confusion

now misery personified, but

the walls will remember,

and watch him from now on 

"don't give your magic to the undeserving"

his words murmuring a loop 

past the graveyard in her chest

and out through empty hands, the

quiet remains of her spread 

delicately across his comforter 

she is simply not enough, but 

that dark pond was a mirror  

reflecting her light more

than just once, failure

oh failure, follow the thin blue line

© 10.5.2016 heather brager

inhale.

I am patient like

a sledgehammer swinging back

down to meet your skin

sometimes there is a doorway (or... everything is an equation, and she still sucks at math)

you signed up for this elective
though now antithetical
you cannot walk away
for there are annotations
inscribed from inside your skull
you have twisted to turn
your body inside out
chosen some beauty other
than a shallow figment
which is certainly not a composition
of the wayward, or provisional
be careful what you wish for
echoes from inside your chest

*

and her spell is on your hands
imprints of formulaic patterns
on your chest and back
fragments of an ancient system flowing
down your limbs, and your variables
scattered within her hair
of course it would be simple
if she had not written this equation
and you had not been divisible by two
though alchemy cannot be properly defined
and wisdom is the outlier

© 9.29.2016 heather brager

desire is more powerful than dependence.

the road does not end

a hemorrhaging pause held in

hesitation, over your shoulder

stolen time is arresting the broken

and the apparition just swallowed

every unspoken word

© 9.27.2016 heather brager

slate.

we are of the same delicate

and brazen soul

hatched on this plane, assigned 

to wander the landscape as

silhouettes before dawn 

longing for more

we are lost and asked 

to be found 

and you smell like perfect

harmony, the chords 

you hum bind me to your bed

return me to that 

Monday, every day

I still cannot bring myself 

to wash my clothes 

I can see you clearly

pleading to be 

healed, begging to be 

heard, though shaman 

to shaman, you must

know already the rituals

and stereotypes we 

supplant, yet

I am still on the other side  

it is not by chance, or 

happenstance that we stood

hovering above time a 

soundtrack already chosen

if you would just open 

your hands to let me in 

symbiosis.

we both knew I wasn’t enough

but how do you tell the dog to stop barking

the past to stop sneaking around the corner

studying us through the open door

how do you toss the key out the window

and leave that beauty standing alone

while you drive out past the pond

your windows down, half of a moon

reflecting in the dark glass

how do you leave with longing

screaming in your head

knowing the clock is a filthy liar

how do you not comprehend

that merciful gift

that arrived on your back doorstep

disguising itself as something tender

how do you pass time with ideal comfort

and still abandon all of your reason

© 9.22.2016 heather brager

pessimism in the morning.

if I knew where this was going

we’d most likely

be well on our way

banking certainties, and documenting

our movements in poetry,

but I let you

fold me up in your back pocket

crushed, and often

retstrained underneath the weight

unable to effectively breathe

until you start moving again

if I didn’t have

all of these unnecessary and

silly expectations

no one would ever disappoint me

we’d just be swimming

in synchronistic formations,

humming murmurations on the wind

never quite colliding

maybe we would be choosing 
coordinating patterns

for serving dishes and flatware,

and naming the family pet

© 9.19.2016 heather brager

9.16.16

the wolf, or the girl

the moon is pulling my hair

dusk, an enigma

© 9.16.2016 heather brager

the point is.

memory

heaves an echo

through a vacant ravine

years of compounded intellect

the aching wounds that you could not heal

moments she climbed inside through your eyes

flashes of sanity that paralyzed your progress

and you digress and exhale

weary for medicine

and softness

© 9.15.2016 heather brager

so we meet again.

they are wont for regret

each futile entry, a

notch for ignition,

each commencement

ditched, the fatal twist

anywhere, the neck

the back, or the gut

cafuné or bust, just

turn to black, blue, or

synchronistic nihilism

 © 9.14.2016 heather brager

happiness, or insanity

when failing hopelessly meant nothing

trudging back again through

death and the human condition

you had no option but to ascend

from dust, brushing away the

remnants of the aftermath

bending and leaning into the wind

amending your purpose, line after line

with an inkless ball point pen

your wavering words, invisible signatures

when intricate eyes pounced on your

every word, feeling you up and down

before swallowing your solitude

teeth on your neck, and breath on your belly

you had no option but to ascend

beyond despair, rubbing in the  

remnants of velvety coincidence

handing over your key, dismissing

pain and circumstance

with a hesitant lexis, cosmically aligned

© 9.7.2016 heather brager

worthwhile.

she is a concept

laundry hanging out to dry

the sun will rise soon

she’s an idea

always awake before dawn

watching the black bird

she will bend the rules

forgive you before you stop

a bird in the hand

© 8.29.2016 heather brager

just another fairytale.

you are familiar with the

backdrop of inky woods

a place you have knelt before

redemption on your palms

branches bent under the 

weight of knowing a

path urgently erased into

the darkness by 

an unseen hand

over your shoulder the

wolves are coming

their cries of battle

and savage hunger

you already know

fear is what they smell

and she needed you once

to be her guide

and her protector

the journey that trailed off 

beyond your line of sight

and now you turn to watch 

an unwavering and 

wanton creature

standing alone  

with her back straight 

a face asking for love

from the sinking sun

hands reaching out

ready to join the pack

© 8.28.2016 heather brager

Tuesday morning.

late at 8:42 a.m., past neon construction workers watching my dress

someone shouts over the jackhammer, all I hear is “baby” but I ignore them

smiling at my phone because you sent another adorable text

shortcut through the projects, my forgotten purse on the kitchen counter

naked and abandoned baby doll smudged with grime

the child probably lost sleep and there she lies, alone by the dumpster

past the men smoking cigarettes while speaking french creole

I begin to walk into the street and glance up at the line of pigeons

there’s a slight chance they will shit on me just as I pass

so I hustle past the edge of the building, tipping my sunglasses onto my head

past the boys in the entry way who pretend that I’m not there

all staring at their smart phones, into the building, then the mollifying

good morning, good morning, how are you today, m’am

fine, thank you, and you, and sometimes I’d prefer to be fucking invisible

© 8.23.2016 heather brager

murmuration.

you dream of waking
bodies of undefined centuries
juxtaposed wreckage and
collocated promises 
in broken softness
in your mouths,
poetry bending grief and hope
spellbound and shattered,
language pulling your weight
down to her, the composition
of birds in flight

© 8.20.2016 heather brager

deciduous.

have I fallen

for you like

a dead oak

moss and

stillness about

my limbs

blanketed dew

pressing my bark

a pithy core

bittered by age

or sweetened

by ripening

© 8.17.2016 heather brager

this august.

9:47 p.m.

she overlooked the late arrival

listened to the couple, droning mindlessly

at an adjacent table

fingerprints in the condensation

on her cocktail glass

high heels, legs, hope and stained lips

were they coming, or going

the subtle suggestion, shrugged off to be

hung by potential regret

a few more sips and laughter, this is nice

politics, hands, lips, her hips

soaked and groping for air

the unmistakable gentleness

reading minds and surveying

intently for clues in a

puzzle, a homecoming, a stretch

far beyond something mediocre

a beginning, or a conclusion

2:18 a.m.

© 8.4.2016 heather brager

by design.

they may have 

passed in the night

dreams, or nightmares

juxtaposed, oxygen

and carbon dioxide

swirling around their parted lips

he prefers to fly

under the radar

failing to understand that she

can see his beacon, and

feelings are loudest

spoken across space and time

they could create talismans

living poetry, growing out of

the summer sidewalk

she breathes into living things

his shadow is chasing, hungry fear

but she is starving

© 7.27.2016 heather brager

afternoon.

why should I even explain

how light crept

effortlessly through the

curtains, your unsettled breath

and sleeping limbs

hiding in plain sight

a beautiful and

unsolved enigma

held hostage in a vacuum

© 7.19.2016 heather brager

a truth, in poem format.

finger the distorted balance of
carefully breathing the same air
afraid to open the door, but
sitting close, with scars left
on your hearts and your arms by
years of unraveling, the pain of
re-stitching love back together

the night fire was drawn out of you
in thunderous blindness, a fierce dragon
with a propensity for resistance
when glass shattered, and once safe rooms
ignited with the blaze, in a
chapter that she has already read

she already knows where you have been
why you fuck in a hurry
and wait for a rabid breaking point,
but each justifiable choice
is a delicate line of poetry
a lyric that replays in your head
each compulsive mistake, the beautiful poison
that you both drank,
and lived to accept

© 7.13.2016 heather brager

shrive.

ask again what you were thinking 

the answers lie just beneath the skin,

waiting for permission

pause to consider the breeze 

beyond the windows,

twilight stretching and lying down 

across the living room rug 

as a witness to simplicity

leave your weapons outside the door

place your hands softly 

beneath the surface, before dawn 

beckon everything that was 

ever taken from you 

until the walls ache toward the sun

© 7.8.2016 heather brager

begin.

if I begin writing
poems for you, in the
endless string of moments
lurking in between,
while I stealthily
manipulate pessimism
while I attempt to pacify
the resuscitation of a
recovering and
abandoned, but ever
hopeful seer
in the moments we will
inevitably collide, two
worlds pressing closer than skin
if I am willing to say to you
what you are, instead
of what you are not.
when I begin writing
poems for you, will
you let the phrases
speak on my behalf,
pulling my face closer
by my hair, and taste the words
in my open mouth

© 6.19.2016 heather brager

sunday return.

you walked with him
to the street, another wet,
grey morning, and
his arms detained carefully, with
sparse words matted together
before the taxi arrived
for a blurry parting, nothing
like you fabricated.
the driver’s broken english, while
stroking a rosary, which swung from
the rearview mirror where
he snuck glances through you, and
you misheard him say
“he’s not the one” as you
latched your seatbelt
watching for signs along the way
arriving far too early, as
you usually do.

© 6.7.2016 heather brager

too much

please don't mistake our 

passion for need 

we've become the fathers 

who walked away

and the husbands 

we dreamed of marrying 

don't mistake our 

tenderness for weakness,

or our certainty 

for desperation 

if properly tended, our fire 

will awaken the dead

6.5.2016 heather brager 

augury.

there may come a day when loss

transforms into a field of swaying lavender

her backdrop a storm far out at sea

bravery bending down at the helm

pressing soaked against the wind

accepting forgiveness from the moon

pain is comprised of memories

the language of flowers decaying in a vase

dropping petals on the kitchen counter

cotton sheets and a softly bent arm

reaching for you to the patterns of

rain outside of the opened window

love is woven through everything

the skin on his cheek where

your finger traced while he slept

the intersection where you stood

when you realized you were hopelessly lost,

the moment you could breathe again

© 6.4.2016 heather brager

the common denominator.

when her eyes caught your gaze

on another rapid decline

you suspected the night would

likely not revert to stillness

in truth, latent thoughts would

seldom unfold that way again

*

her hips and their words

would grasp at your heart

with smoldering fingers

she would borrow your watch

from inside of the sea

and pending another departure

*

despite the slack obedience

to cyclical verdicts

she would jump through

revolving doors with a stranger

brandishing a propensity

for fastening universes together

© 6.2.2016 heather brager