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home | poetry forum | Heather Brager

vision is a septal defect.

you will envisage
a reaction to misplaced rhythm

buried within my soft torso
your forearm quarrying, into the cavern

covetous, your hand thrusting past
my unhinged jaw, my meted throat

you will not see, grasping
but it is hanging in my eyes

© 2012

- Heather Brager

(featured in the poetry forum 03.01.12)

editor's note: The good doctors move to treat the physical and obvious; oblivious to the possibility that our heart troubles originate with what we see. - mh

where there's a will.

I sometimes hear voices reminding me to pay attention
touching my hair somewhere behind my right ear
more evidence that I might be unbalanced and fanatical

I stuff artificially lucky trinkets deep into my pockets
measuring with an imaginary ruler
hoping I don’t lose them somewhere through the holes

I rub dirty coins between my thumb and middle finger
tasting mint chapstick
and squint at the intrusive sunlight that burns
through my chipped windshield

I might be too far left of center
or too lost to find my way home
so I count the seconds between stoplights in Spanish
visualizing telephone poles balancing end to end
as they scrape the eastern nimbus clouds

© 2011

- Heather Brager

(featured in the poetry forum 05.22.11)

editor's note: Too far left lands you right here where we like to rub dirty coins between fingers and almost never pay attention - except to poems like this. Greatness! - mh

another afternoon

there is a pretty woman walking
briskly, she darts by the apples

it is crowded with distracted shoppers
my boy’s hand is gripped in mine

she doesn’t look to either side
but briefly at her watch and a list

I notice her trendy high heels
and wonder if she has a date

maybe an appointment
to have her hair cut and styled

maybe it’s the first time they'll meet
or she's seeing an old client

I feel my ring with my thumb
reach to touch my son’s hair

he wrinkles his nose and
says “you’ll mess it up”

- Heather Brager

(featured in the poetry forum 06.13.11)

editor's note: The few steps a women takes in public becomes her defining moments for another person that needs to know just what she is up to. Writing about one tiny image is a tact a writer uses to stay fresh, current, or sane. In this case, though, the curiosity is too much. The stranger, according to the narrator, needs to own up and tell us of their intentions. Some people just look like they need a TSA shakedown so we can all accept them walking around our apples. America, what a dangerous place to wander out into. - tm

A bit about Heather: Heather Brager is a mother, professional multi-tasker and life-long procrastinator. She is a lover of music, art and words, and often arranges her perspective on life into the occasional poem or drawing. Her art and poems are published in a variety of online and print publications. Some of the results of her restlessness can also be found by visiting:

Touching the Art