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By Judith Roche
They are only boys, though murderers and rapists.
Bad skin is an issue. Candy bars a treat.
Some are fathers. Few have fathers.
By Patricia Spears Jones
And I am full of worry I wrote to a friend
Worry, she replied about what—love, money, health?
All of them, I wrote back. It’s autumn, the air is clear
By Naomi Ayala
And now, where the moon
rose behind here,
three stories loom—
By Alison Roh Park
If it were not so scarred from your accidental
rages—uptown, upstate—I would have rested
on the cinder block of your chest.
By Heather Davis
The lights in your home channel 29 men, their
soot stained clothes, last breaths, crystalline sweat
let loose on black rock
By Gregory Pardlo
Unfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
By Chris August
America, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
By Remica L. Bingham
I enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.
By Lita Hooper
Frederick Lake has been to prison
finished his time
convicted in 1989
By Dan Vera
Thurgood whispers in Sonia's ears
You know they said the same things about me?
Master two languages, graduate at the top