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Rebecca Black

School of the Americas

By Rebecca Black Sergio has ink-pot eyes, girlish wrists.
He draws superheroes extremely well—
Avengers, Wolfman, El Toro Rojo,
Karen Skolfield

At the Mall, There’s a Machine That Tells You If You Are Racist

By Karen Skolfield It's right next to a Polariod booth.
The instructions say the needles are small
and barely felt. The pictures, it explains,
have nudity, but no gratuitous nudity.
Nadia Sheikh

A Wet Daydream

By Nadia Sheikh I let Shane Kennedy
reach back in his desk
to fondle my calf,
soft and buttery
D. Gilson

Being Called a Faggot While Walking the Road to Clemson, South Carolina

By D. Gilson The honeysuckle dew slick
& sweet this morning
& only an empty Wendy's cup
thrown to ditch
Sara Brickman

Letter From the Water at Guantanamo Bay

By Sara Brickman They do not want me to be a river, but I am unstoppable.
I am the perfect instrument. Capable

of every sound, but here the only sound you hear under
me is No. Is, Please. The men
Kendra DeColo

The Strap-on Speaks

By Kendra DeColo It is easy to believe
we are separate entities,
you and I

as I wait, a fish in the chasm
Catherine Calabro


By Catherine Calabro Santa Maria della Pieve above us, and the light-speared trees.
At the cast-iron table you tried to tell
the gentleman how we were related,
how I came from you, or halves of you.
Constance Norgren


By Constance Norgren Who is she, standing just off-center,
her eyes on us, caught turning to us,
her arms folded over her chest,
Demetrice Anntía Worley

Femincide/Fimicidio ~ The Murdered and Disappeared Women of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico

By Demetrice Anntía Worley On this eve of the dead, I cry out loud,
“por favor Virgen de Guadalupe, don’t
forsake me,” before I open the door,
before I see la policía flat
Jenny Browne

The Center for the Intrepid

By Jenny Browne Wheeled onto the jet leaving
my town, another soldier

whose pruned body echoes earth
liberating itself from gravity.
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