Skip to Content
Search Results
Arhm Choi

How Manifestos Are Made

By Arhm Choi If I fail my mouth this story plays again.
Back home he yanks mama's mouth
round into screams, burns
Purvi Shah

Loss is an art, traversing one world to the next

By Purvi Shah The mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling

Reading Tranströmer in Bangladesh

By Tarfia Faizullah In Grandmother's house,
we are each a room that
must remain locked. Inside
Marilyn Nelson

Making History

By Marilyn Nelson Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
Rachel McKibbens

Across the Street from the Whitmore Home for Girls, 1949

By Rachel McKibbens The Mad Girls climb the wet hill,
breathe the sharp air through sick-green lungs.
The Wildest One wanders off like an old cow
Venus Thrash

Uncivil

By Venus Thrash I am wearing a white tux with tails,
or a baby blue one with a ruffly shirt,
or decked out in classic black, or coolly
Kathy Engel

I Will Not

By Kathy Engel write about the killing of Troy Davis or
the years he claimed innocence so many times
the words fell from his mouth like drops of honey.
Antoinette Brim

Let Daylight Come (Little Rock, circa 2008)

By Antoinette Brim Let the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
Kathleen O’Toole

Halim, waiting

By Kathleen O'Toole He arrived first as a student of geology
in the bicentennial year.
He witnessed
Deema K. Shehabi

Migrant Earth

By Deema K. Shehabi I could tell you that listening is made for the ashen sky,
and instead of the muezzin's voice, which lingers
like weeping at dawn,
Page 13 of 15 pages