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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. 

Friday, September 30, 2016


I am patient like
a sledgehammer swinging back
down to meet your skin

Thursday, September 29, 2016

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

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

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

Saturday, September 24, 2016


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 

Thursday, September 22, 2016


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

Monday, September 19, 2016

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

Friday, September 16, 2016


the wolf, or the girl
the moon is pulling my hair
dusk, an enigma

© 9.16.2016 heather brager

Thursday, September 15, 2016

the point is.

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

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

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

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

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