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Deema K. Shehabi

Migrant Earth

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,
Lisa Suhair Majaj

Guidelines

By Lisa Suhair Majaj If they ask you what you are,
say Arab. If they flinch, don't react,
just remember your great-aunt's eyes.
Susan Brennan

Poets Against the War

By Susan Brennan We stand at the Capitol
seized in snapshots
of curious tourists
Elliott batTzedek

Sunday Afternoon as Oil Pours into the Gulf

By Elliott batTzedek Across a small suburban lawn
a very large man is riding
a very large tractor mower
Zara Houshmand

Humor Difficult to Translate

By Zara Houshmand The label says Afghan Comedian
and nothing more, no artist, no provenance,
just a monitor’s unlidded eye embedded
Rashida James-Saadiya

Rain Dance

By Rashida James-Saadiya we scatter
dodge words that rip into flesh
hide from clenched fist
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
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
Patricia Spears Jones

Autumn, New York, 1999

By Patricia Spears Jones And I am full of worry I wrote to a friend
Worry, she replied about what—love, money, health?
All of them, I wrote back. It’s autumn, the air is clear
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