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Chris August

Oil: A Love Poem

By Chris August America, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
Jody Bolz

Mutanabbi Street

By Jody Bolz Pages flit above the ruined bookstalls.
Blank or dark with words, it doesn’t matter:
paper is as dangerous as ink—as thought.
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
Remica L. Bingham

Final Exam Administration

By Remica L. Bingham I enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.
Lita Hooper

One Man’s Plea

By Lita Hooper Frederick Lake has been to prison
finished his time
convicted in 1989
Joseph Ross

If You Leave Your Shoes

By Joseph Ross If you leave your shoes
on the front porch
when you run
Melisa Cahnmann-Taylor

After The UPS Man Shouted “Feed Your Baby At Home” Through His Truck Window

By Melisa Cahnmann-Taylor Bionic Feeding Woman
whips breasts out, sprays
privacy netting over him
Dan Vera

Judicial Temperament

By Dan Vera Thurgood whispers in Sonia's ears
You know they said the same things about me?
Master two languages, graduate at the top
Francisco Aragón

Torso

By Francisco Aragón Despite the absent head (whose eyes

were the green of apples)
Natalie Illum

IV. Wheel Spinning

By Natalie Illum The first time I saw these activists turned
acrobats, I was immobilized as they arched
through hoops, twisting like DNA.
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