by Kim Stoll
You woke at 2:46,kicked the sheets fromyour sweat-glossed legs,to tell me about a dreamwhere a fish floats belly-up,reborn under thin sheets of ice.You were that fish.Moved so painfully slow,pressed your skeleton againstyour flesh and could not escape.Then you were snaggedand yanked to the surface,gutted and scraped ofall your scales ona mossy table.Your eyes rolled betweenthe floorboard and backinto the lakewhere the other fishpecked away at them.
Kim Stoll is a junior creative writing major with a minor in film studies. Her poetry has previously been published in RiverCraft and her chapbook, Through a Pinhole.
Coming next week: poetry by Alex Gaurco
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