Song for the Turtles in the Gulf
By Linda HoganWe had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Linda HoganWe had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small
By Danez SmithI am sick of writing this poem
but bring the boy. his new name
his same old body. ordinary, black
dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
By Ruth Irupé SanabriaI am the daughter of doves
That disappeared into dust
Hear my pulse whisper:
By Christi KramerKnowing the tribal leader loved people who fear God and received
priests graciously
whatever time they called,
the president had bombs sewn into the clothes of two priests.
By Sue D. BurtonToday it’s Hopkins and his obscure spiritual contraptions –
everything I read is heart-corseted, like a concealable vest,
police surplus good as new. Some fanatic is packing a gun.
By Genie AbramsC’mon c’mon c’mon. Let’s do this thing! “Two or three minutes,” my ass. It’s been five minutes already! Where are they? How long
are you supposed to hang out in this frickin’ waiting room?
By Devreaux BakerLast night my sister came to my table
Trailing stories from the other world
Trailing remnants of all our mother’s people
She spoke words that fell from her mouth
By Rayna MomenUnprotected sex is a woman in America.
Unprotected sex is a woman in the world.
My body is my temple and will always be
it is not some place where you go to pray
By Seth MichelsonWhere do we keep them, George
Tiller, Barnett Slepian, David
Gunn, these beloveds
By Demetrice Anntía WorleyOn this eve of the dead, I cry out loud,
“por favor Virgen de Guadalupe, don’t
forsake me,” before I open the door,
before I see la policía flat