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Theresa Davis

Because She Thinks She Is Going To Hell

By Theresa Davis honey
you are not being judged
because your bones decided
Rachel Simon

Postmark from the Transition

By Rachel M. Simon the name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
Heather Holliger

Margins

By Heather Holliger She and I, our silences,
hesitations--at the grocery store,
in the taxi, on the street.
Stephen Zerance

Skintight

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
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
Melissa Tuckey

University Kiss in a Time of War

By Melissa Tuckey Two slight young women--
the smaller one
reaches for hands
Mark Doty

Charlie Howard’s Descent

By Mark Doty Between the bridge and the river
he falls through
a huge portion of night
Francisco Aragón

Torso

By Francisco Aragón Despite the absent head (whose eyes

were the green of apples)
Natalie Illum

IV. Wheel Spinning

By Natalie Illum The first time I saw these activists turned
acrobats, I was immobilized as they arched
through hoops, twisting like DNA.
Richard McCann

from Nights of 1990

By Richard McCann What I could not accept was how much space
his body was taking with it: for instance, the space where
I was standing, the dazed fluorescence of his hospital room
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