<![CDATA[Heather Lee Rogers: Poetry - Blog/Poems]]>Wed, 31 Dec 2025 01:03:59 -0500Weebly<![CDATA[Volcano Ammo Poem]]>Sun, 12 Oct 2025 22:23:22 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/volcano-ammo-poemI am shouting this poem
from the tongue
we don’t mention
undulating a yell
through the length
of my guts
a volcano that spills
and continues to spasm
I just might have
a lot to say.
And I’m aching
from a morning romp
and I’m aching 
from lugging love’s bed
up three flights
at this altitude
I’m breathing everywhere
messy rage-pulse
dropping bonfire poems
like nice girls
drop a sneeze
and don’t we all say
“Bless you!”
but just keep looking at me
with no words like that
just keep looking at me
with no words like that
just keep looking at me
with no words like that
I don’t want your blessing
I have all the words
and fires
I need.

*** psyched that this poem found a home in the inaugural issue of slips slips print-only literary newspaper , based out of NYC, you can order a free copy here!   I'll have another poem in their next issue as well. ***]]><![CDATA[Transatlantic Flight]]>Mon, 16 Jun 2025 01:46:42 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/transatlantic-flightHere in the liminal absence of time
I breathe above the clouds
and in your chest
at once, at nothing
without you
up here
I spin loose
untethered by minutes
the hours unravel
rude eternities
last night my hunger
got so violent
I wrenched and broke
the clock hands
off their faces
then I stepped outside this airplane
stepped right out and fell
and you are down there
in the world
and I am floating
nowhere nothing
in no time.


***thrilled that this poem made its publishing debut in NYC-based, women-run, print-only Chill Mag, issue 4 "Dreaming"! ***

ALSO... Urban Ganges approached me about printing this poem on their poetry reed infusers... so if you like incense, you can buy that here.
]]><![CDATA[Forty-Eight]]>Sat, 21 Jan 2023 04:26:00 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/january-20th-2023
Picture
Pulled another year
over my back
and feeling pretty good
in these sleeves
tailored for an
expanded wingspan
the age of more
glitter has begun
and I have grown
into myself
into these destinies
I hung in quiet
childhood midnights
in the back of the
dark hall closet
they really fit me now
think I'll wear them out
​wear them all over town.
]]><![CDATA[Mammogram Poem]]>Tue, 02 Nov 2021 22:42:28 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/mammogram-poemFirst mammogram
before the rain came
before the hurricane
before my appointment
I took a photo
of how beautiful
my body is today
to celebrate
how smooth and lithe
I felt in my own skin.
With my breast
clamped in the machine
I tried to remember
if any lover ever
pressed so tight
between the sheets
of rain falling
heavy on my window
rinsing grime and memories
with undue force
cold biting metal plates.
All relationships
need maintenance with time
in the name of beauty
in the name of pain
in the name of storms
Here I promise me
I’ll love myself
I’ll do that work
for me
for years to come.

***​Thrilled this two poem was recently published in Adanna's Literary Journal Issue 11.***

]]><![CDATA[Skeleton Poem]]>Sun, 14 Mar 2021 23:15:56 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/skeleton-poemReconnected
to your voice
but there’s this plague
and long light years
of twisted subway tracks
between our signal reach
Out here, all
black and cold expanse
I’ve stripped down
to my ugliness
torn off my skins
unstuck the muscle from
my stubborn bones
that flash so white
in starlight
like a quasar of my need
doubt runs across
my skeleton like an
electric current
tears spark against
with jealousy, yes
I know better
I know better
I know better
no comfort to
these hapless
strings of bone
twitching
in our midnight
to your sad voice
on the phone.


***Thrilled this poem I wrote last year found a home on Bonfire Lit! ***]]><![CDATA[Election Feels...]]>Mon, 26 Oct 2020 16:49:41 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/election-feelsAs the title suggests, I wrote this the morning after Trump was elected in 2016. This morning I voted against him for the second time.  Who would have guessed 4 yrs ago that we'd be voting early in long, determined lines 6 ft apart with plague masks on?  Or all the dystopian, fascist madness we have endured since his election?  This poem was published in print by Adanna Literary Journal in Dec 2017.  Good luck to us all, and what's left of our Democracy, in the next couple months.

November 9, 2016
 
 I woke up this morning
in a bed
that isn’t mine
in a country
that belongs to someone else
I woke up this morning
not having slept still
hoping it was just
our bad election dream
I woke up more afraid
for my neighbors who wear
hijabs and
rainbows and
hoodies and
turbans and
skin kissed by God
and all the young girls
who don’t know any better
I woke up with my
“I voted” sticker
still hanging
on my jacket
and my suffragist-white-shirt
still wrinkled
on his floor
then I felt around a while
for where I left my heart
in this cold and rainy
unfamiliar land
but it was gone
the first of many
casualties to come.

]]><![CDATA[Skyscraper Poem]]>Mon, 27 Jul 2020 02:46:27 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/skyscraper-poemSo, this poem from a couple years ago was just published by Streetlight Press!  Glad it finally found a home.

While you work
I have eaten
the skyscraper
and the elevator
of your love is built
to slowly lumber
from my big toe up up
to our penthouse suite
my mouth is full
of scaffolding
the metal tastes
like blood. I
roll my tongue
around it as I wait
to hear you hear you
slowly climbing
each floor chiming
up the hungry distance
of my legs.

]]><![CDATA[Radio Spring NYC 2020]]>Tue, 14 Apr 2020 02:36:56 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/radio-spring-nyc-2020While empty subway cars
run all night long
we are eight million
lonely transistor radios
sending sad sound-waves
to the starred stratosphere
            above twinkling Hell’s Gate
            above grim Empire State
            above bruised Chinatown
            above our green Lady’s crown
souls break hard
broadcasting anguished
insomnia in the
City that Never Sleeps
our frequencies jam out
vying for validation
harmonize wise
pick stale fights
pledge future fucks
each alone together
swan singing our
static-interrupted lives
over strained airwaves
from the precious dusk
to the diseased dawn
of yet another day.


**Thrilled this poem was published by Headline Poetry & Press in April 10, 2020  ***

]]><![CDATA[Dragon Ride]]>Sun, 22 Mar 2020 01:31:03 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/dragon-rideOnce Upon A Time
there was a narrative
she clung to like
a branch above
a dragon in a moat
it wasn’t comfortable
but it was safe
this branch, this story
she’d been told, been sold,
been fed like broth
that found its way inside
the marrow of her bones
then one day curiosity
let slip her grip
she splashed into her moat
and wrapped her legs
around the dragon’s neck
who carried her to see
when they returned
she threw the castle
drawbridge out with
shouts and cut it’s chains
now lots of dragons
visit all the time
they light her hearths
and coil before them cozy
with their iridescent tails
but sometimes still
when winds blow wrong
straight through her open gate
these stories in her marrow
shake her bones with
once upon a times
but having been to see
she can’t recall the
happily ever after.
 

]]><![CDATA[End of Summer Poems]]>Sun, 25 Aug 2019 23:31:24 GMThttps://www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com/blogpoems/end-of-summer-poemsStrawberry Pancakes
 
Plump ripe strawberry time
bought a big dollar box from
the all-night-fruit-guy
set up by the 7 train
cuz I ached for someone
to make pancakes for.
Sweet treasure carried
juice-stained palms carried
over that dark patch
of raw summer sidewalk
I always mistrusted
torn up by tree roots
deep-buried shadows
so carefully carried
feeling along my dark way
like reaching through
the wicked dawn across
the bedsheet to
an empty space.

*** Strawberry Pancakes appears in the Summer 2020 edition of The Rat's Ass Review! ***

Hot Dad Poem
 
There on the corner -
striking on my sinews
popping sonic like
a fat string rings -
see a sweet hot man
with a baby in a carriage
and a husky on a leash
tattoos, pierced nose
I thrum for him
bones resonating as I
dance on down the street…
Is this the last held note
of my surely dying womb,
or that good good beat ever
pulling me to kind and caring
men?  His smile rests at
my chest like a hymn
and warms me with its
end-of-summer song.

]]>