In Translation
By Elizabeth AcevedoMy mouth cannot write you a white flag.
It will never be a Bible verse.
My mouth cannot be shaped into the apology
Search Results
from The Book I Made with a Counselor My First Week of School
By Javier ZamoraHis grandma made the best pupusas, the counselor wrote next to Stick-Figure Abuelita
(I’d colored her puffy hair black with a pen).
Earlier, Dad in his truck: “always look gringos in the eyes.”
Mom: “never tell them everything, but smile, always smile.”
Death Valley, California
By Jeneva Stoneclose to the Nevada border salt
flats dry beds octagonal or hexed
one constant the wind another
dryness the two wicked all away
POLITICS OF AN ELEGY
By Hieu Minh NguyenIf things happen
the way they are supposed to
my mother will die before me.
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Distance
By Ruth Irupé SanabriaMy grandfather asked me: could I remember
him, the park, the birds, the bread?
I’ll be dying soon, he said.
The Journey
By Alan KingThe diner's nearly empty
when you both arrive - except for
the six or so other patrons and
a waitress who calls everyone "Hun".
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
a good woman would never
By Sylvia Beatofor years you told no one
how you cried yourself to sleep
after the doctor held your hand
Spratly and Paracel
By Esther LinAfter learning his appointment was canceled
and his senior bus won’t come for another two
hours my father calls from his waiting room