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Susan Eisenberg

As I Pay Forty Dollars

By Susan Eisenberg for my asthma inhaler that
last year cost fifteen
I pause for the mom
Dunya Mikhail

Ama-ar-gi*

By Dunya Mikhail Our clay tablets are cracked
Scattered, like us, are the Sumerian letters
“Freedom” is inscribed this way:
Ama-ar-gi
Dunya Mikhail

The Iraqi Nights, Section 7

By Dunya Mikhail In Iraq,
after a thousand and one nights,
someone will talk to someone else.
Markets will open
for regular customers.
Khaled Mattawa

Ecclesiastes

By Khaled Mattawa
Dunya Mikhail

The Shape of the World

By Dunya Mikhail
Brian Gilmore

philadelphia

By Brian Gilmore like fidel after raiding
moncada barracks

we face history like
seed removed from
soil
Lois Beardslee

Manitogiizans/December

By Lois Beardslee When I asked my mother
If she could remember
What her mother's mother called December
Sara Brickman

Letter From the Water at Guantanamo Bay

By Sara Brickman They do not want me to be a river, but I am unstoppable.
I am the perfect instrument. Capable

of every sound, but here the only sound you hear under
me is No. Is, Please. The men
Teresa Scollon

River, Page

By Teresa Scollon Look how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid

these children down at the fire where stories are told.
Dunya Mikhail

from part one of Diary of a Wave Outside the Sea

By Dunya Mikhail Through your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
Page 1 of 2 pages