2 Poems by Heather Sager [Poetry]

Night Eater


Because the snowdrift beat the window, 

I visit the storm in my tennis shoes. 

I coast along road ice, night-drunk. 

Low pregnant cumuli suck and spit 

bitter air. 


I walk the decommissioned train bridge, 

its rusted iron carapace blinking every star. 

Squeak the wooden ties,

delight the half-gushing icy river

with my dance. No,

that sobbing and laughing

is not from me. 

Kiss the snow field,

the numb, frostbitten.


Looking back, 

the smoky, triangulated arch

of bridge in the dark.





If I were depressed—


why do I spend my days

winding up these autumn trails


in search of treetops that blow down 


the wind through their hair?


why climb the muddy rope

of path through underbrush, decayed



to where, mid-distance,

the pink fire of burning bush sprouts?



By Heather Sager

  • Heather Sager’s poetry appears in MantisPennsylvania Literary JournalWest Texas Literary Review, and other journals. Heather also writes short fiction. She grew up in rural Minnesota and lives in Illinois.


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