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By Gowri Koneswaran
we're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
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
By Heather Holliger
She and I, our silences,
hesitations--at the grocery store,
in the taxi, on the street.
By celeste doaks
Tell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
By Zein El-Amine
Sit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
By Nancy C. Otter
The soldier who stopped my father's truck
at the Chiapas border crossing in 1983
might have worked for that man
By Kevin Simmonds
at least one subject
and one verb
By Joseph Ross
In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed
By Marilyn Nelson
Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
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