Figments (& other occurrences)
a poetry chapbook
by Laurie Blauner

Available from
dancing girl press

Sample poem from Figments (& other occurrences)

The Taxidermist

I was the most flawed person I ever had to live with. My wife said that something had lately come between us like a child’s overflowing water glass. At night I ached and screamed, flailing phantom limbs. I called across rooftops and the animals came, bristling their black, white, and brown fur, wind stitching their innocent eyes. I measured paws and wings and claws. I stayed inside. I recorded the essentials, like my sister’s baby growing incrementally. Muscles were migrating clouds, the small necks marvelous at swiveling, skin carefully adjusted. Everything worked. Orange pads pushed me sideways. Useless, sharp, yellow teeth still frightened me into a corner. I sleepwalked during the day. Human voices whimpered. We couldn’t have children. They would eat us alive anyway, my wife said. Our bodies grew accustomed to emptiness. Breathe deeply, I wanted to tell her, and we’ll fill up inside.