Treading Water						

Winded, throat burning,
I’m feeling the taunt
of the finish line

How many 
things in aging body
and my life need fixing—
how many relationships
are set akilter

Whimsically, 
try sometimes forgetting 
the balance,
shut the laptop,
listen to the rain
on the window

On a quiet afternoon,
when my face 
studies yours,
what psychedelic radiance 
glows within irises?

On the night of a party,
I wonder who will
flick off the room’s lights 
and watch the night-shadows
when we leave.


Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Most recently, she has contributed poetry to The Dawntreader, Meat for Tea, The Opiate, orange juice, The Stray Branch, The Nature of Things (Lone Mountain Literary Society), and more journals.