Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		M.J. Smith Scaling Disks of icy transparence click on the countertop like poker chips; I drag knife blade backwards scaling blue-green stripes behind gills; Odor of deep green muck rises as thin watery blood runs down tiles, pools at sinkbottom and drains in a thin line that says “sh-ch-sh-ch.” Next Poem
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