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Joseph Ross

In a Summer of Snipers

By Joseph Ross In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed
Camille T. Dungy

Arthritis is one thing, the hurting another

By Camille T. Dungy The poet's hands degenerate until her cup is too heavy.
You are not required to understand.
This is not the year for understanding.
Sonia Sanchez

14 haiku

By Sonia Sanchez Your limbs buried
in northern muscle carry
their own heartbeat
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.
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
Carlos Andrés Gómez

Never Again (Rwanda Poem)

By Carlos Andrés Gómez
Kim Roberts

Portrait of Hippocrates, or Buqrat

By Kim Roberts O augury seeker,
know and be aware...
In the book of divination,
Judith Arcana

Can Safety Matches Make Us Safe?

By Judith Arcana You read the tiny cardboard book before
you scratch the strip under Augie's New Pizza
on the back of MIA:We still don't know
Penelope Scambly Schott

At the Demonstration

By Penelope Scambly Schott Back when I used to march
in the noon of the green world,
I sang like a crow.
Jane Seitel

Suspension of Disbelief

By Jane Seitel I wake into yet another day of doubt
creeping in as ants through a warped doorjamb.
The morning news brings new atrocities
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