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Jeneva Stone

Death Valley, California

By Jeneva Stone close to the Nevada border salt
flats dry beds octagonal or hexed

one constant the wind another
dryness the two wicked all away
Katy Richey

Depression Insists We Stay In

By Katy Richey There’s not a single thing in your closet
that should be worn after 1997.
You do look fat in those pants,


JP Howard

etheree for black women

By JP Howard black women we be trying to hold worlds
on our backs, in our hearts without fail
some days we fail at perfection
Susan Eisenberg

As I Pay Forty Dollars

By Susan Eisenberg for my asthma inhaler that
last year cost fifteen
I pause for the mom
Purvi Shah

Saraswati praises your name even when you have no choice

By Purvi Shah You had a name no one
could hold between their
teeth. So they pronounced
Sylvia Beato

a good woman would never

By Sylvia Beato for years you told no one
how you cried yourself to sleep
after the doctor held your hand

Lauren Camp

Pause Hawk Cloud Enter

By Lauren Camp The soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.

Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
Teri Ellen Cross Davis

Drought

By Teri Ellen Cross Davis When you were inside me I could feel you thrive
your rounded kicks, my body your taut drum.
Now I beat these breasts, betrayed by a landscape
that wilts, a place where even tears won’t come.
Gordon Cash

And Still They Come (for Dr. Sue)

By Gordon Cash You scream your bullhorn lies, intimidate,
Harass, respect no law of man. You speak
Of scalpels, sutures, and sterility,
Dismemberment, death by regret, all lies,
And bear false witness with each one against

Catherine Klatzker

WHAT IT WAS LIKE

By Catherine Klatzker The world was always a place of silence,
of congenital shame—even before those days
in 1967, four years before you met your love. Your
strength grew belatedly, fertilized as it was in the

knowledge that you were nothing. Your life did
not matter to anyone, except to hurt you.
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