Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		I Didn't Know by Kathryn Rantala   I didn't know you were coming. My hands are plates. No idea you'd be here. My hands are cups; the thumbs and fingers don't meet. My eyes are fish, idling with the eels. What do you want? Shoes fill my porch. Who are you? My mouth is a line.     Next Poem
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