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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
Patricia Spears Jones

Autumn, New York, 1999

By Patricia Spears Jones And I am full of worry I wrote to a friend
Worry, she replied about what—love, money, health?
All of them, I wrote back. It’s autumn, the air is clear
Naomi Ayala

In Adams Morgan, Two Years of Neighborhood-Wide Reconstruction Come to a Halt for the Night

By Naomi Ayala And now, where the moon
rose behind here,
three stories loom—
Alison Roh Park

Build You Up

By Alison Roh Park If it were not so scarred from your accidental
rages—uptown, upstate—I would have rested
on the cinder block of your chest.
Gregory Pardlo

Antebellum

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

Understanding Tina Turner

By Tara Betts Quiet girl found a voice mama could not quell
inside Nutbush City Limits. The baby
blasted beyond timid Annie Mae into Tina
Lori Desrosiers

That Pomegranate Shine

By Lori Desrosiers I was the wrong kind of bride,
more sweat than glisten,
more peach than pomegranate.
Randall Horton

Note from a Prodigal Son III

By Randall Horton The gavel
The splintered body
The red-neck guards
Lee Sharkey

Eye

By Lee Sharkey What do you do with an eye in the cup of your hand?
What do you see that you didn't?
What do you make of a sphere of jelly with fins of torn muscle?
Martha Collins

lynch

By Martha Collins not as in pin, the kind that keeps the wheels
turning, and not the strip of land that marks
the border between two fields. unrelated
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