mosaic.

I wake slowly to Chet Baker, the

sullen notes sliding against the walls

through the emptiness of rooms,

sweeping past my cheek at daybreak

I have written these poems,

hundreds of times

reliving our demise and rebirth

another drawing, ouroboros

there is your left eye, my hair

in sunlight, the scar

on your wrist, your lips

even when you slept next to me

you drove east, dragging

my heart behind your car, the

Bridgers in your rear view mirror,

deceit and worship swimming

in your mouth like eels

crossing Lake Street I glance to the sky

through branches, a pair of ravens

I want them to tell me why, my feet

in rhythm on the snow and ice

restructuring the shards you left me

© 2.19.2016 heather brager