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By Sheila Black
The brace was metal, and it fastened around the ankles.
Outside in the street there was the beggar with elephantiasis; there was
the leper, the neighbor with eyes milky blind,
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 Joseph Ross
In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed
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 Penelope Scambly Schott
Back when I used to march
in the noon of the green world,
I sang like a crow.
By Claire Zoghb
He’s put the war out of his mind. Shelling and murdered relatives behind him.
By Elliott batTzedek
Across a small suburban lawn
a very large man is riding
a very large tractor mower
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