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Samiya Bashir

Manistee Lights

By Samiya Bashir Brother I don't either understand this
skipscrapple world that is--these
slick bubble cars zip feverish down
María Luisa Arroyo


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
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
Meg Eden

factory work: made in china.

By Meg Eden I look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way
Kim Jensen

And Even George W. is out of a Job

By Kim Jensen You know the economy's bad
when people are lined up around the block
to apply for the job
of the wicked witch.
Joseph O. Legaspi

The Red Sweater

By Joseph O. Legaspi slides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
Heather Davis

29 Men

By Heather Davis The lights in your home channel 29 men, their
soot stained clothes, last breaths, crystalline sweat
let loose on black rock
Gregory Pardlo


By Gregory Pardlo Unfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
Remica L. Bingham

Final Exam Administration

By Remica L. Bingham I enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.
Nancy Morejón

Nueva fábula de albañil / The New Fable of the Bricklayer

By Nancy Morejón Entre arena y gravilla,
mezcla y paleta,
va transcurriendo su vida
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