Skip to Content
By Marie-Elizabeth Mali
Pulling out of Union Square station, the subway
sounds the first three notes of There's a place for us,
somewhere a place for us. A woman sits on me, shoves
By Sami Miranda
we is not the singular
dotted i, black figure against
a white background.
By Joseph O. Legaspi
slides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
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.
By John Murillo
For me, the movie starts with a black man
Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons
By Cornelius Eady
A warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.
By Wang Ping
What more can you say
Nomad daughter of glaciers?
City has bleached the sun from your face
By A.B. Spellman
florene barco moved
to philadelphia &
on a visit home