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Bailee, Day 3

3/29/2015

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This week was a total writing bust!  So here is a poem I wrote a year ago, on the third day after I adopted my cat. (edited 5/2/15)

Bailee, Day 3

Little black wildcat
takes a big leap
drops her weight
against my body
stretched out on the couch
then cautiously
she creeps up close
smells my new face
spreads lion teeth
around my nose
a cage, a test
I choose stillness
and we stay like this until
she licks my nose to reassure
and settles back
four eyes lock and then
agree to close
we trust
we sleep
breath for breath
two scaredy-cats
we dream ambitious dreams
of leaping into danger
without fear.

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March Snow Poem

3/22/2015

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Here in NY we had a snowstorm the whole first day/night of Spring...

March Snow Poem

Winter
like a street urchin
clings with grubby hands
to the sharp black coattails
of Spring.
But our heroic gentleman of note
tips top hat, preens his buttonhole
and strolls out to the painted park on time
strolls and smiles with brass cane style
as if the muddy drag-along
wasn’t kicking up the crocuses
and spitting rancid sleet
in his most classy wake.
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Saint Patrick's Day

3/19/2015

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Been reading a ton of Bukowski this week... I can hear his cadence a bit in this.  That happens.  But I'm ok with it.

Saint Patrick’s Day

The birds raise a ruckus
on Saint Patrick’s Day
perhaps they are already drunk,
when the rain came
and the workmen skipped
I flopped back on my couch
lolling in dreamy dreams
like a puppy in a daisy patch
ready to frolic in love again
and Spring will spring eternal
if I’m a lucky girl…
but it’s a good life
to stretch out with Time
at ten on a Tuesday morning
as the birds and rain
will tell.
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Massage Haiku

3/15/2015

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Monday chair massage
It hurts, but fascinated
I feel silently.
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The Church Play

3/8/2015

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Halleluiah chorus
of car horns
wakes me from my
forgot-to-set-the-alarm
on a two-show day
for the church play
wakes me from the
glory glory goodness
of my bed
sweet babylon, musing on
this offering of souls
to whom is it made
this ceremony of theatre
these rituals by rote:
on stage, on a word
            a chair moves
            an actor cries
off stage, with no word
            a prop is passed
            a zipper assist;
performing this Mass
we dream cowards and kings
when voices are raised
in a humble black box
are we speaking to God
or do we deny Him
make our offering
to our friends in the room
while He stands leaning
near the back row
in shadows
all-seeing and unseen?
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Bitch

3/3/2015

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The need in me
feels diseased
like a cancer-sick dog
scratching its hide
for relief.

I don’t want you
but I need your desire
like a witch
collecting spent men's souls
to put in her vanity elixirs.

From the raw belly
of the lonely moon
I am the beast
across the street
while decent folks
turn down their shades:

    I light wax candles
    and prepare to feed.

***Edited to how it appears above in May 2016, for publication on the Rat's Ass Review website, in the Love and Ensuing Madness section!
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For Daniela

3/1/2015

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They say you can dance
as if no one is watching
but sometimes I dance
as if everyone is watching
like I only exist
if I’m seen;
once I wrote
because you were reading
I wrote for your audience
a kind of striptease
you said my intellect
turned you on
but sometimes
a woman
needs to drop
all the trying
and be enough
simply dancing
in her stillness.
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    Heather Lee Rogers

    I write and perform poetry.  I have been published on various websites and in print at various times throughout my life. I live in NYC where I work as an actor. Acting makes me forget that I'm a poet for long stretches of time.  But I mean to work on that here: I'll be posting old poems, new poems and in between. Thanks for visiting.  Enjoy!

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