inches uphill, metal trolley heaped
with meat. His eyes like furnace flues.
He takes a deep drag from
the cigarette between his knuckles,
hovering amid the shoppers
like a Hiroshige hawk, claws dangling.
A woman with a look of studied
indifference brushes against him
& winces, flicking her sleeve clean
as if after his beheading
she had mistakenly dipped
her handkerchief in his blood.
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Issue 63
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
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FICTION
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ESSAY