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By Cynthia Guardado
A black woman stands with two toddlers hanging off her hips.
Her balance is perfect as she pushes her luggage with one leg,
the boys curl into her shoulders unaware of how
they all slide forward. I offer her my help. Her face is serious
By Karenne Wood
1. A white poet whose work I admire said she feels most inspired on her daily four-mile walk through a forest.
2. I wish I had time to walk four miles daily. I can usually manage one mile with dogs. My dogs are distractible, and they distract me.
By David Gewanter
Wealth, passing through the hands
of the few, becomes the property
of the many, ensuring the survival
By Tatiana Figueroa Ramirez
I wake up to the alarm clocks
of cocks & gallinas struggling
for their corner of the callejón.
on the preheated concrete.
By Danielle Badra
We are not born to be barons of wealth. We
are soft spoken wordsmiths, not soldiers. We are
not broken by hardship or hate. We are not
By John James
In Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
By Sharon Olds
They put roofs over our heads.
Ours was made of bent tiles,
so the edge of the roof had a broken look,
By Sonia Sanchez
There are women sailing the sky
I walk between them
They who wear silk, muslin and burlap skins touching mine
They who dance between urine and violets
By JP Howard
black women we be trying to hold worlds
on our backs, in our hearts without fail
some days we fail at perfection
By Susan Eisenberg
for my asthma inhaler that
last year cost fifteen
I pause for the mom