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Samantha Thornhill

House of the Rising

By Samantha Thornhill Give thanks to your mansion
of a mama in that cold square room

the push and pull
of breath that brought
Vincent Toro

Vox Populi for the Marooned

By Vincent Toro Like a charm of goldfinches we will gather. We will gather at the sea
crest and inside toppled cubicles, drawing upon this horizon of shady
treaties and chemical weapons depots as if cajoled toward the coast
Ross Gay

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude

By Ross Gay This poem is in video format.
Jennifer Maritza McCauley

Old Blood

By Jennifer Maritza McCauley Before they tell us how to look
at our kilt brothers' bodies:

Tell them we already know how to see ‘em.
Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano

God Is Brown

By Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano Brown is the color of my god’s skin.
Gentle, curvy, older than a Spanish whip.
My god abides outside of sin,
no water needed to baptize the newly born.
Bennie Herron

part 1…us as we are

By Bennie Herron i always thought
babies came from dancing
i owned every color of
corduroyed pants
Ellen Hagan

What We Do—Now

By Ellen Hagan We mourn, we bless,
we blow, we wail, we
wind—down, we sip,
we spin, we blind, we
Catherine Klatzker


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.
Dunya Mikhail

The Iraqi Nights, Section 7

By Dunya Mikhail In Iraq,
after a thousand and one nights,
someone will talk to someone else.
Markets will open
for regular customers.
Amal Al-Jubouri

Baghdad Before the Occupation

By Amal Al-Jubouri —My solitude, to which I always returned
City that kept my secret religion in her libraries

I came back to rest my head on her shoulder
and with just one look, she saw how tired I was
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