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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
Nahshon Cook

From a Conversation-Hour Discussion About Intolerance with Adult English Students

By Nahshon Cook Then he explained
how the Buddha
instructed us
to reflect on the body
Rashida James-Saadiya

Rain Dance

By Rashida James-Saadiya we scatter
dodge words that rip into flesh
hide from clenched fist
Carly Sachs

Maine

By Carly Sachs Where does memory go?
Our windows looking out on the bay,
my wet clothes hanging on the antlers
Jericho Brown

Prayer of the Backhanded

By Jericho Brown Not the palm, not the pear tree
Switch, not the broomstick,
Nor the closet extension
Cord, not his braided belt, but God
Philip Metres

For the Fifty (Who Formed PEACE With Their Bodies)

By Philip Metres In the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis
Cornelius Eady

Manchild

By Cornelius Eady A warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.
Martín Espada

The Republic of Poetry

By Martín Espada In the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
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