Skip to Content
Kelli Stevens Kane blueberry blackberry as always
bleeding, back road or boulevard,
our boy crowned with baton,
Karen Skolfield Balloon, then papier mâché.
Gray paint, blue and turquoise, green,
a clouded world with fishing line attached
T. J. Jarrett its ruthless syntax, and the ease with which it interjects
itself into our days. I thought how best to explain this—
this dark winter, but that wasn’t it, or beds unshared
but that isn’t exactly it either, until I remembered
Devi K. Lockwood No, not scrubs. Put on your tight purple dress and heels,
dig them into the new carpet. You have to look gorgeous,
that way they’ll trust you. And the patients start pouring in.
Teresa Scollon Look how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid
these children down at the fire where stories are told.
Persis M. Karim Take their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.
Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost
Don Share July kindles the redneck in me.
I blaze down Interstates
that are viaducts for my beery nerves
Nicholas Samaras What is that red throbbing over the sound of engines?
Why is a distant war still being talked about in the media?
I can't see my home or Iraq or the Middle East
outside this bowed rectangle of blue altitude.
David Mura There are 150 first languages in our schools
and so many aliens even E.T. would go unnoticed,
though if your tongue moved one way in the land of your birth