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By Ellen Hagan
the ones who brought your father here, come. Bring
with them whole almonds, dried berries & clementines
wrapped in cloth. Their clothes & smart shoes too.
By Meg Eden
I look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way
By Marilyn Nelson
Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
By Antoinette Brim
Let the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
By Kathleen O'Toole
He arrived first as a student of geology
in the bicentennial year.
By Judith Arcana
You read the tiny cardboard book before
you scratch the strip under Augie's New Pizza
on the back of MIA:We still don't know
By Claire Zoghb
He’s put the war out of his mind. Shelling and murdered relatives behind him.
By Deema K. Shehabi
I could tell you that listening is made for the ashen sky,
and instead of the muezzin's voice, which lingers
like weeping at dawn,
By Susan Brennan
We stand at the Capitol
seized in snapshots
of curious tourists
By Ching-In Chen
The teacher straightbacked,
faced me off, her eyes.
My face in the cleave of
her shoulder, my bones