Skip to Content
Search Results
Clint Smith

There Is a Lake Here

By Clint Smith There is a lake here.
A lake the size of
outstretched arms. And no,
not the type of arms raised
Marcos L. Martínez

2001 Mill Road, Alexandria, VA

By Marcos L. Martínez There are immeasurable ways to count days: on the median the sunflower tracks UV streams: east to west then sleep; an acorn gets weeded out of the common area ‘til another live oak drobs a bomb then sprouts till, yanked away again;
Jee Leong Koh

Attribution

By Jee Leong Koh My grandfather said life was better under the British.
He was a man who begrudged his words but he did say this.

I was born after the British left
an alphabet in my house, the same book they left in school.
Rasheed Copeland

The Book of Silence

By Rasheed Copeland We learned
from the book
of our fathers’ silence
Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano

God Is Brown

By Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano Brown is the color of my god’s skin.
Gentle, curvy, older than a Spanish whip.
My god abides outside of sin,
no water needed to baptize the newly born.
Hayes Davis

Saturday, 9:30am

By Hayes Davis After their hands are washed
After their utensils are chosen
After little brother needs help
After “Get back to the table!”
Kyle G Dargan

Natural Causes

By Kyle Dargan Naturally, the gun is purchased from a farm in Virginia—pulled from a bushel of barrels
by a tremorous hand, a young man’s. His other fist proffers sweat-wilted dollars. The
farmer, compensated, keeps his gaze down as to remember nothing of the boy’s face.
Gordon Cash

And Still They Come (for Dr. Sue)

By Gordon Cash You scream your bullhorn lies, intimidate,
Harass, respect no law of man. You speak
Of scalpels, sutures, and sterility,
Dismemberment, death by regret, all lies,
And bear false witness with each one against

Ross Gay

ode to the puritan in me

By Ross Gay There is a puritan in me
the brim of whose
hat is so sharp
it could cut
your tongue out
Craig Santos Perez

Twinkle, Twinkle, Morning Star

By Craig Santos Perez kaikainaliʻi wakes from her late afternoon nap
and reaches for nālani with small open hands—

count how many papuan children
still reach for their disappeared parents—
Page 3 of 10 pages