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

still untitled.

as luck would have it
a cobblestone city
hundreds of lost souls
heading westward
dark street tipping point
home, or breathless
nothing, or north
that which you fear
will always find you
hidden within your mouth
falling from your tongue
fingertips on a scar
at 3:00 a.m.
if only held hostage
in a poem


© 4.18.2016 heather brager

April.

early before daybreak I wander through our house, the
floorboards creak to remind me that you died

I look for your silhouette, hear ice in your glass
and feel your hands sliding across my bare back and thighs

I may never feel that I was enough
our discord longed for the hours and days of
perfectly timed harmony
the line of your jaw and depth of your need
left me reeling every time, you shook your head and told
me there was no one quite like me

in the night I still wait for you, quietly
pushing away your last photograph

I try not to remember the way your voice sounded, and
regret that I couldn't tell you about Jim Harrison


© 4.11.2016 heather brager

For A.g. Synclair.

This is the fundraising campaign for the A.g. Synclair Memorial Fund: 

https://de.gofund.me/emw73gk4&rcid=7724958ef61211e596edbc764e05901c