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Bianca Lynne Spriggs

To the woman I saw today who wept in her car

By Bianca Lynne Spriggs Woman,
I get it.
We are strangers,
but I know the heart is a hive
and someone has knocked yours
from its high branch in your chest
Joseph Green

Talk Ugly

By Joseph Green This poem is in video format.
Seema Reza

Quartering

By Seema Reza When the soldier knocks on your door, billet book in hand, move aside
to let him enter. He will wipe his feet, remove his hat
(you’ll learn to call it a cover)
he will be polite, place his rifle by the door
Minal Hajratwala

‘I am broken by the revolt exploding inside me’

By Minal Hajratwala Your rage is pomegranates spilling open on ice, is the flute’s thin silver seam, is a volcano spitting rivulets of fire to wash clean these corrupt lands.
Regie Cabico

Daylight Savings Time Flies

By Regie Cabico
Sarah Sansolo

Aunty Mary and Her “Friend” Ruth, 1910

By Sarah Sansolo You wear the faded muslin—
did it begin yours or mine?
Everything we have is both.
Everything we are is both,
Bennie Herron

part 1…us as we are

By Bennie Herron i always thought
babies came from dancing
i owned every color of
corduroyed pants
Mahogany L. Browne

the best time

By Mahogany L. Browne the best time i had as a teenager
included a bottle of cisco and a sideshow
at the uptown gas station.
after Kenny’s body was bludgeoned by his girlfriend & her two brothers
Ellen Hagan

What We Do—Now

By Ellen Hagan We mourn, we bless,
we blow, we wail, we
wind—down, we sip,
we spin, we blind, we
Zeina Azzam

Leaving My Childhood Home

By Zeina Azzam On our last day in Beirut
with my ten years packed in a suitcase,
my best friend asked for a keepsake.
I found a little tin box
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