from HOMESTEAD LOCKOUT
By David GewanterWealth, passing through the hands
of the few, becomes the property
of the many, ensuring the survival
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En la Casa de Mami Tita
By Tatiana Figueroa RamirezI wake up to the alarm clocks
of cocks & gallinas struggling
for their corner of the callejón.
Step out
on the preheated concrete.
We are not reconciled to the oppressors who whet their howl on our grief.
By Danielle BadraWe 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
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Spaghetti Western
By John JamesIn Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
Calvinist Parents
By Sharon OldsThey put roofs over our heads.
Ours was made of bent tiles,
so the edge of the roof had a broken look,
Aaaayeee Babo (Praise God)
By Sonia SanchezThere 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
etheree for black women
By JP Howardblack women we be trying to hold worlds
on our backs, in our hearts without fail
some days we fail at perfection
As I Pay Forty Dollars
By Susan Eisenbergfor my asthma inhaler that
last year cost fifteen
I pause for the mom
Saraswati praises your name even when you have no choice
By Purvi ShahYou had a name no one
could hold between their
teeth. So they pronounced
Currency
By Fred Joinera pocket can sometimes be
a kind of prison,
I have never lived in