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Solmaz Sharif

Mess Hall

By Solmaz Sharif Your knives tip down
in the dish rack
of the replica plantation home
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.

Congo

By Lauryn Nesbitt As long as you wake up everyday you should have
no reason to complain, right
i guess if i'm still breathing then i'm not really
Kathy Engel

The Return (Etheree)

By Kathy Engel Six
times ten
Bison back
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
Kevin Simmonds

a sentence

By Kevin Simmonds needs
at least one subject
and one verb
Joseph Ross

In a Summer of Snipers

By Joseph Ross In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed
Joel Dias-Porter

Trayvon

By Joel Dias-Porter is a story of steam,
rising like
a swarm of hornets,
Sonia Sanchez

14 haiku

By Sonia Sanchez Your limbs buried
in northern muscle carry
their own heartbeat
Marilyn Nelson

Making History

By Marilyn Nelson Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
Page 17 of 20 pages