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Cathy Linh Che

Split

By Cathy Linh Che I see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
Deema K. Shehabi

Migrant Earth

By Deema K. Shehabi I could tell you that listening is made for the ashen sky,
and instead of the muezzin's voice, which lingers
like weeping at dawn,
Zara Houshmand

Humor Difficult to Translate

By Zara Houshmand The label says Afghan Comedian
and nothing more, no artist, no provenance,
just a monitor’s unlidded eye embedded
Rashida James-Saadiya

Rain Dance

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

Aeneas & the pilgrim child set out into the city

By Tiffany Higgins I shall build a city upon a hill
and upon a hill and upon a hill and upon a hill
I am a little shepherd piping low
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