By Sylvia Beatofor years you told no one
how you cried yourself to sleep
after the doctor held your hand
By Wo ChanShe closed the doors
and then the blinds
and then her face, midday.
By Taylor JohnsonBless the boys riding their bikes straight up, at midnight, touching,
if only briefly, holding, hands as they cross the light to Independence.
Bless them for from the side the one on the red bike looks like me
his redbrown hair loose against the late summer static heat.
By Hanif Willis-AbdurraqibI think I am breaking up with memory. again. I live
by only that which will still allow me
to do the living. The flag, for example, reminds me
to either feel fear or sadness, depending on how high
Page 1 of 2 pages