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Ross Gay

To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian

By Ross Gay Tumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
Danez Smith

not an elegy for Mike Brown

By Danez Smith I am sick of writing this poem

but bring the boy. his new name

his same old body. ordinary, black

dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
Teresa Scollon

River, Page

By Teresa Scollon Look how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid

these children down at the fire where stories are told.
Brenda Cárdenas

Nexus

By Brenda Cárdenas This body always compost--
hair a plot of thin green stems
snowing a shroud of petals,
Danez Smith

juxtaposing the black boy & the bullet

By Danez Smith one is hard & the other tried to be
one is fast & the other was faster
one is loud & one is a song
Dunya Mikhail

from part one of Diary of a Wave Outside the Sea

By Dunya Mikhail Through your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
David Mura

Minneapolis Public

By David Mura There are 150 first languages in our schools
and so many aliens even E.T. would go unnoticed,
though if your tongue moved one way in the land of your birth
Jennifer Perrine

A Theory of Violence

By Jennifer Perrine Under the surface of this winter lake,
I can still hear him say you're on thin ice
now, my heel grabbed, dragged into the opaque
Michelle Regalado Deatrick

For My Daughter

By Michelle Regalado Deatrick When I sweat in a Midwest January
and wish to God it was a hot flash but know
it's greenhouse gasses--read the news:
Patricia Monaghan

Loaded

By Patricia Monaghan They were always taught that all guns were loaded.
It was a way, he said, to keep them safe.
Don't you notice, he said, how people get shot
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