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Linda Hogan

Song for the Turtles in the Gulf

By Linda Hogan We had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small
T. J. Jarrett

Of Late, I Have Been Thinking About Despair

By T. J. Jarrett its ruthless syntax, and the ease with which it interjects
itself into our days. I thought how best to explain this—

this dark winter, but that wasn’t it, or beds unshared
but that isn’t exactly it either, until I remembered
Hermine Pinson

Test for Cognitive Function

By Hermine Pinson Mother

Slipper

July

“ I will ask you to recall these words

at the end of our session”
Danez Smith

not an elegy for Mike Brown

By Danez Smith I am sick of writing this poem

but bring the boy. his new name

his same old body. ordinary, black

dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
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
Teresa Scollon

River, Page

By Teresa Scollon Look how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid

these children down at the fire where stories are told.
Persis M. Karim

Ways to Count the Dead

By Persis M. Karim Take their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.

Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost

Achilles in Jasper, Texas

By Jeffrey Thomson I know this: a man walked home drunk
along the corduroy of pines
in west Texas, the bronze duff and

the dust and the late light that fell
Don Share

Pax Americana

By Don Share July kindles the redneck in me.
I blaze down Interstates
that are viaducts for my beery nerves
Kevin Simmonds

Ars Poetica

By Kevin Simmonds I can write a poem
to the limbs of a grandmother
seeded in a scorched field
where her house stood
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