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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
Cornelius Eady

Manchild

By Cornelius Eady A warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.
Lenelle Moïse

Mud Mothers

By Lenelle Moïse the children of haiti
are not mythological
we are starving
Jan Beatty

Zen of Tipping

By Jan Beatty My friend Lou
used to walk up to strangers
and tip them - no, really -
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