throwing it away.

I try not to look
at the photograph
the truck we found in the field
12 miles outside of Livingston
later we discussed giving credit
where credit was due
but you never could open your fist
to hand it to me

we saved that bottle
2700 miles across the country
desperation and loose ends
trailing us in the wind
I was hoping for more than
just to survive
a seedy hotel in Ohio
acrid coffee on the interstate
your broken hand


© 7.16.13 heather brager  

two sides, same coin.

sometimes I am the other side
cold and rigid, familiar
between your fingertips
in your pocket
under your thumb
a clear picture on one side,
turned over on its back

© 7.15.13 heather brager  

the trap.

your eyes confiscate

and I am dissuaded

in my mind, I am escaping to flee

where there is only truth

we do not exist, yet we are pieces of a puzzle

I am and you are

a cancer in our cells

a crow to a window

a wasp to the windshield

as I imagine and draw

the route back to you

I am the wasp, trapped

beneath your rocks glass 

losing oxygen and 

drowning in the pool

© 7.12.13 heather brager  

oh, she'll be fine.

she is staggering
on the precipice of
a cliff, a bridge, rush hour traffic
still unable to pretend

an empty bottle beside the bed
a blade in her right fist
all of her cards thrown in the dirt
she is pulling the hair
from her sweating brow,
left at the altar,
receiving a life sentence,
tearing off her dress,
skin exposed to torrential rain,
left wandering alone
on the high plains,
alone and wicked

she is unable to pretend
that she was ever enough


© 7.11.13 heather brager 

observations and conclusions.

the light is rising in the hot car
I see hands clutching the steering wheel
it occurs to me that they are mine

I reach up to touch the pale blue pearls

my arms are part of a body
the body belongs to a stranger
who is part of all of this

it is quiet aside from the birds

we discuss game theory and chess
whether we strategize our lives
I tell you I am in conflict between
the organic and linear, but
my hands are on your chest

the rapid intake of air
a rise in the tide, and
you could drown

I see tenderness in your eyes
and taste salt on your lips
heat is evaporating the sea off
of our necks and shoulders
we are brand new

we are creating this mess
we crawl up the bank of sand
from the depths

all I can hear is the thud in my ears

our skin is burning
our feet are burning
on a beautiful collection
of microscopic glass


© 7.8.13 heather brager 

the bends.

I probably shouldn’t have

kissed your mouth, but

distances kept disappearing

I could hear the path of

your eyes tracing

my hands and legs,

my lungs exhaled

their grasp on death,

a former life I clutched

for so many wasted years

you said I seemed aloof

about my drawings

pieces of myself crammed

inside of a box

abandoned and crumpled

you said I was beautiful

and it was just too intense

for a fleeting second, I thought

I should make you leave

© 7.1.13 heather brager

hostage.

I heard you on the stairs
so many nights
stumbling after midnight
the shadows of your demons
proceeding you,
scaling the walls
creeping across our bedroom floor

they don't live here anymore.

no, I am not afraid.
though I carry your words
in shattered pieces
close to my heart,
fragments that I am
slowly plucking away

© 6.24.13 heather brager