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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, March 29, 2016

For A.g. Synclair.



This is the fundraising campaign for the A.g. Synclair Memorial Fund: 

2:54 a.m. reconciliation

all of these years
we smoldered and blazed
the well constructed fires
west and east, poetry
for food and misery,
liquor for blankets
in truckstop hotels
sleeping closer than skin
I was just in the other room
baking you a cake

you forced your way
through my bones,
my bending soul
dangling keys and truth
while we reconciled the
many layers of our lives,
walked the cemeteries and
drove the empty highways
always finding our way back
to the same sad song

when I am scared that
you won't recognize me
I curl you deep within
the cocoon of my ribcage
sensing a subtle writhing, I
comfort you with my breath,
you are a found child and
storm on the horizon
I breathe you back to sleep


© 3.29.2016 heather brager

Sunday, March 13, 2016

halfeti rose.



nowhere near providence, she has found him again 
slumped forward, a deconstructed flower
in his closed fists, invisible treasures
an eternity of skies written on his arm
silent bewilderment in his eyes, almost
like the afternoon they met
the broken mantle clock 
futures of observant children
the gift of a self portrait
lying on a kitchen table, now framed in the dark
how his hands 
once felt on her skin

she watches her own fingers trace his spine
witnesses a foreign voice recite 
a prayer in a whisper
it must have kept her alive when he left
something kept her alive 
years compressed into a hand tracing a spine
clarity drowns and resurfaces
love is not an emotion, but meager sustenance 
she turns her face to the ocean, pulling steadily on
the horizon, wave upon wave crashing down
an eternity of skies
an eternity of skies


© 3.13.2016 heather brager

Thursday, March 3, 2016

the persistence of memory.


she refuses to end sentences with terror
though images of vacant desert landscapes
force the last breath of air from her lungs

seconds are melting incomprehensible
a soft voice answering and consoling
though she is holding hostage a velvet rage

she watches a woman dousing wreckage with the sea
a bare branch and timepiece on a bedside table
drown by rebirth and the flocks are coming



© 3.3.2016 heather brager