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Brian Fanelli

Political Soundtrack

By Brian Fanelli Every Sunday, I came dressed in punk rocker black,
checkered pants, steel-toed Docs.
No tie dye on me when I joined
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
Kamilah Aisha Moon

Notes on a Mass Stranding

By Kamilah Aisha Moon Huge dashes in the sand, two or three
times a year they swim like words
in a sentence toward the period
María Luisa Arroyo

barreras

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
Cathy Linh Che

Split

By Cathy Lihn Che I see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
DaMaris B. Hill

Stewing

By DaMaris B. Hill I dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
Zohra Saed

Kandahar

By Zohra Saed Behave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar
Carolee Bennett Sherwood

Apiary

By Carolee Bennett Sherwood They build boxes upon boxes, great honeycomb cities. Rumbling
trucks deliver parcels of pollen. Pretzel vendors leave good luck
trails of salt along the sidewalks. Busy taxi cab tongues lick up
Ellen Hagan

Before Your Arrival

By Ellen Hagan the ones who brought your father here, come. Bring
with them whole almonds, dried berries & clementines
wrapped in cloth. Their clothes & smart shoes too.
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
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