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Marie-Elizabeth Mali

Blast

By Marie-Elizabeth Mali Pulling out of Union Square station, the subway
sounds the first three notes of There's a place for us,
somewhere a place for us. A woman sits on me, shoves
Yvette Neisser Moreno

So This Is How They Decided to Take Him

By Yvette Neisser Moreno So this is how they decided to take him—
at the end of his life,
his frame shrunken, his wild rambling days over
Joseph O. Legaspi

The Red Sweater

By Joseph O. Legaspi slides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
Jose Padua

A Portrait of America in Trash

By Jose Padua I give to you a portrait of America in trash.
I give it to you with love and respect, America:
mountains of beer cans crumpled, plastic figures
Patricia Monaghan

Knowing the Bomb So Well

By Patricia Monaghan After the nightly news and four martinis
he quietly begins to draw the inner workings
of the bomb, knowing the explosion needed
Jeff Gundy

Day at the Pond Without Geese

By Jeff Gundy A good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
Heather Davis

29 Men

By Heather Davis The lights in your home channel 29 men, their
soot stained clothes, last breaths, crystalline sweat
let loose on black rock
Gregory Pardlo

Antebellum

By Gregory Pardlo Unfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
Chris August

Oil: A Love Poem

By Chris August America, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
Jody Bolz

Mutanabbi Street

By Jody Bolz Pages flit above the ruined bookstalls.
Blank or dark with words, it doesn’t matter:
paper is as dangerous as ink—as thought.
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