a private memory.

I am not writing a memoir

with you, or with him

but loss to fire

theft to drowning under the bridge

over the clouds

please temper your wings

love to love, loss to love

another chapter passed to flames

swallowing my words

while I am vilified

licking my fingers

abandoning all perspective

didn’t your heart twist around

fleeing from panic

through the open windows

through my fingertips

carrying all of my emotions

the lead and anvil

shining stones, and fervor

woven through our smiling teeth

the backs of our necks

with careful, dying cadence

didn’t our voices

vanish into thin air

through grace and thunder

water and smoke

to stroke you inside

out and asleep

© 5.31.2016 heather brager

diving.

tiptoeing across creaking floors 

the moment will arrive

to compare our contrasts

by measurement of wisdom

or clumsy sculpture of human frailty

left alone far out in the dark

synergy drives us blind

sneaking around with disaster 

quietly hiding from each other  

in an abandoned place we still love

we are dissolved and rebuilt

in a continuous and perpetual wave

in carefully plotted formations 

gliding over the piers

breathless for nourishment

© 5.29.2016 heather brager

linger.

that night she was left standing

darkness swallowed her hands and hair

in the black hole of a parking lot

the misplaced demons tempted

by fire and alcohol in her veins

she hunted contentment alone

shrouded in oblique metaphors

discarded words tangled at the shoreline

un-tethered and left for bait, but

still able to recall the sunlight

she denied acting a martyr

with surrender on her breath

carrying the beasts and their burdens

coveting luck and defiant worship

she longed for painless resurrection 

© 5.18.2016 heather brager

transition.

in that stationary instant

the world fell into tumbling shards

breath ceased to feed oxygen into her cells

every living thing pulverized each organ and limb

bark peeled simultaneously from every tree

roots arched and heaved from the earth

leaves quivered to the ground

bursting into aqua flame

and were gone

© 5.11.2016 heather brager

a glass half empty.

she listens for you out of habit

beyond the bass of the 

upstairs television

children quietly breathing 

through their own dreams

in another room

watered down drink in her hand 

she still waits for your

fingers resting gently on her hair

come lie next to me, you whisper

put down your glass

it's time for sleep

© 5.6.2016 heather brager

camera obscura.

driving down hampshire street

passing quiet and empty pubs

strangers opening doorways

near the starlight lounge

I remember the book with a red cover

left in the hands of a beautiful stranger

he is soon to marry

and I am still driving 

down hampshire street 

I see now, more than ever

you are the same as you ever were

and couldn't be more distant

stripped-down, your light gives to lies

and where do I go, where do I go 

when I feel everything 

and know nothing

this man, lost soul hovering above me

I would rearrange my books

this cup of coffee, rye in a glass with a square ice cube

I realize now that searching takes me nowhere

everything I need will find me

the skeleton key is no longer trapped 

inside the kingdom

and I gave you a damn good reason to stay

© 5.2.2016 heather brager