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By Gregory Pardlo
Unfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
By Chris August
America, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
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.
By Jericho Brown
Not the palm, not the pear tree
Switch, not the broomstick,
Nor the closet extension
Cord, not his braided belt, but God
By Lori Desrosiers
I was the wrong kind of bride,
more sweat than glisten,
more peach than pomegranate.
By Randall Horton
The splintered body
The red-neck guards
By Philip Metres
In the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis
By Remica L. Bingham
I enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.
By Melisa Cahnmann-Taylor
Bionic Feeding Woman
whips breasts out, sprays
privacy netting over him
By Dan Vera
Thurgood whispers in Sonia's ears
You know they said the same things about me?
Master two languages, graduate at the top