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Camisha Jones What you know bout ballin'
your every fiber into a tight fist,
letting the naps of history
that birthed you unfurl
Destiny O. Birdsong Or maybe you weren’t. Whenever I’m frightened,
anything can become a black woman in a granite dress:
scaffold for what’s to come: blue lights exploding
like an aurora at the base of the bridge;
Claire Hermann God separated the light from the darkness,
but I have a light switch.
Once there was morning and evening,
but now someone has torn the heart out of a mountain,
Alan King The diner's nearly empty
when you both arrive - except for
the six or so other patrons and
a waitress who calls everyone "Hun".
Zahara Heckscher This is a love song
to the invisible waves
that travel through the air
finding the antenna
Rajiv Mohabir A twist of cotton
daubed in oil
catches flame, an echo
Kim Roberts Hundreds of tiny fry
crowd the single tank,
churning the water milky.
The fry grow to parr
Remica Bingham-Risher I am almost convinced this morning by the volley
of verses on each frequency, roughnecks telling it
like they want it to be, intoning You bad, baby
Truth Thomas There are fists making tom toms of eardrums,
boots kicking downbeats in skulls,
in every state of tinted circles.
Katy Richey There’s not a single thing in your closet
that should be worn after 1997.
You do look fat in those pants,