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Leona Sevick

White

By Leona Sevick Instead, I spotted our mother in a tiny
chair in the back row, her blue-black head
shining unnaturally. She was dressed in
Naomi Ayala

No. 13, for Remembering

By Naomi Ayala Two blocks away
where yellow cabs
zip by without stopping
Myra Sklarew

Infinite Regress of War

By Myra Sklarew In the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,
Truth Thomas

Sunday Kind of Love

By Truth Thomas Shayna reads the Word and takes
the story of that first miracle as
serious as unpaid electric bills in
winter
Meg Eden

factory work: made in china.

By Meg Eden I look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way
Joseph Ross

In a Summer of Snipers

By Joseph Ross In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed
Kim Roberts

Portrait of Hippocrates, or Buqrat

By Kim Roberts O augury seeker,
know and be aware...
In the book of divination,
Kathleen Hellen

Belly Song

By Kathleen Hellen I sit in the front row of
bleachers -- cheap seats for greater grief.
My son
Kathleen O’Toole

Halim, waiting

By Kathleen O'Toole He arrived first as a student of geology
in the bicentennial year.
He witnessed
Kim Jensen

And Even George W. is out of a Job

By Kim Jensen You know the economy's bad
when people are lined up around the block
to apply for the job
of the wicked witch.
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