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By Lisa L. Moore
Word got out about the bad bill.
College students packed up their bikinis,
went back to Austin to tell those men why
By Jennifer Perrine
Under the surface of this winter lake,
I can still hear him say you're on thin ice
now, my heel grabbed, dragged into the opaque
By Rachel M. Simon
the name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
By Pages Matam
Ma Mere n'a Jamais eu des ailes
My momma never had wings
But she could tap dance on hurricanes
By celeste doaks
Tell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
By Stephen Zerance
My father hands me gifts he bought Christmas Eve:
an extra-large broadcloth and thirty-four waist khakis.
I dress different from the boys at school. My shirts fall
By María Luisa Arroyo
Mami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
By Zein El-Amine
Sit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
By DaMaris B. Hill
I dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
By Arhm Choi
If I fail my mouth this story plays again.
Back home he yanks mama's mouth
round into screams, burns