Sunday, March 13, 2022

New Poetry by Heather Sager










We danced

You and I danced
in the living room
near the ottoman chair
and azure blanket

as the guitarist from Mali
played through his soul
on the stereo

Enthralled, we didn’t notice
the thick cobwebs
hanging over our heads

and we forgot the particular 
dread and fear
that made us drink 
so much red wine:

how could this life and love
ever dovetail to an end?


- © Heather Sager 2022


Heather Sager lives in Illinois, USA. She writes poetry and fiction. Her most recent work appears in The Orchards, Magma, Fahmidan Journal, Red Eft, Version (9), The Bosphorus Review of Books, Shabd Aaweg Review, The Fabulist, Willows Wept, and more, and her poetry has appeared in Bluepepper in the past (in 2020). 

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