every step echoes.

she will not speak of 
clemency, the remnants of 
your intentions have 

clearly cut scars along 
blue veins in her hands

your poems still sneak 
through the stillness, late 
into the evening, pages

of your handwriting beg
for love, or some relief

with your shirt pressed 
damp against her 
back, she will see you 
standing, waiting for 
joy to swallow, or cleanse time

© 7.26.2017 heather brager

the only thing to fear.

"Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken." Jack Kerouac 

I once thought that I

would love every man

I ever loved,

carry his DNA in

my molecules, his words

would gently fold into

the recesses of my

grey matter, imprints of his

hands on my skin like

footprints abandoned in

dried clay, though

I did not account

for wild-eyed fear, that which

drew the lips back to

show his teeth, the

agony of injury that leached

rapidly from his every

pore, the echoes of

desertion rumbling through

vacant space between

our intentions

© 7.12.2017 heather brager

Zdzisław Beksiński.