“Downy Nights,” by Laura Garrison

Apr 20th, 2010 | By | Category: Poetry

The dreams
webbed and flapping, with beaks like orange shoehorns,
suffuse my head;
my head
heavy, like a Dostoevsky novel,
presses the pillow;
the pillow
flannelled and fluffed, one corner laced with drool,
enfolds the feathers;
the feathers
lost in profusion, both shaken and stirred,
long for the duck;
the duck
naked and vengeful, scented with plum sauce,
frequents my dreams.


Laura Garrison grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania, and currently lives in Maryland with her husband Justin.  She sometimes writes dirty yet hilarious limericks on the walls of truck stop restrooms and signs them with the alias “Shameless Heinie,” which she considers a fine tribute to a more serious (and more famous) contemporary Irish poet.

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