[Realpoetik] S.M. FATTIG

RealPoetik Magazine realpoetik at scn9.scn.org
Sun Apr 17 20:46:56 PDT 2011


Don’t see me, don’t hold me.  Only remind me of past thievery, of a lack
less biting. The neat growing stack of unspeakable things: Tiny lips, tissue
tricked, numb-limbed spectery.  The exact translucence of slitted eyes and
fists.  Oily sluices of blood bear us into braced airways, a house without a
door.  Next to her on the blanket (spreading stain etc.), a surly cobbled


Everywhere he goes, John the Baptist scans compulsively for places he might
sleep if he were homeless.   He marks street names and landmarks in a
notebook.  Water towers appeal to him especially.   He is often mistaken for
Kris Kristofferson and middle-aged women in beg him to sing “Jesus Was a
Capricorn.”  John patiently explains to them that actually, Jesus was a
Pisces.  They walk away whispering cruelly, elbows and wrists scraping
together.   When he is particularly distraught he steals cats from porches.
He returns them moments later, overcome with dander and self-loathing, eyes
streaming.  He vanishes glumly before the police.  It is a lonely existence
but he feels satisfied.

*S.M. Fattig *is currently living in Nebraska and pursuing her MA in Early
Childhood Education.  Her work has appeared in *Octopus Magazine*, *Ink Node
*, and *MARY Magazine*.  In addition to poetry, she is currently at work on
textile projects involving found fabrics.

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