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