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Julie Enszer

The Pinko Commie Dyke Returns

By Julie Enszer to the place where the idea
of being a pinko commie dyke
first entered her mind,
Pat Parker (d.)

love isn’t

By Pat Parker (d.) I wish I could be
the lover you want
come joyful
bear brightness
Aracelis Girmay


By Aracelis Girmay You, selling roses out of a silver grocery cart

You, in the park, feeding the pigeons
You cheering for the bees

You with cats in your voice in the morning, feeding cats
Danez Smith

Our Movable Mecca

By Danez Smith we who were born into conundrum, came into the world as the world was leaving, children
of the ozone, the oppressed, the overlooked, of obtuse greed, of oil overlords, of oblong
definitions of justice
Richard Blanco

Declaration of Inter-Dependence

By Richard Blanco Such has been the patient sufferance...
We're a mother's bread, instant potatoes, milk at checkout line; her three children pleading for bubble gum and their father. We're the three minutes she steals to page a tabloid, needing to believe even stars' lives are as joyful and bruised.
Kathy Engel

Ode To What We Make

By Kathy Engel Praise the words and what
defies words, the mamas and
fathers, all the beloveds
Minal Hajratwala

‘I am broken by the revolt exploding inside me’

By Minal Hajratwala Your rage is pomegranates spilling open on ice, is the flute’s thin silver seam, is a volcano spitting rivulets of fire to wash clean these corrupt lands.
Samantha Thornhill

House of the Rising

By Samantha Thornhill Give thanks to your mansion
of a mama in that cold square room

the push and pull
of breath that brought
Vincent Toro

Vox Populi for the Marooned

By Vincent Toro Like a charm of goldfinches we will gather. We will gather at the sea
crest and inside toppled cubicles, drawing upon this horizon of shady
treaties and chemical weapons depots as if cajoled toward the coast
Jen Hofer


By Jen Hofer what dateless body what we exacted or nixed or hexed in the eternal present of not being able to – what not being able to not be considered garbage or trashed by the bag
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