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Lip Manegio

the day i died, my therapist asked how my week was going & i told him i am reading stone butch blues

By Lip Manegio the trees were dying again. i had been spending
more time on the porch than usual, letting
the early november freeze get the better
Juan J. Morales

Of Avocados

By Juan J. Morales Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
Deborah A. Miranda

We

By Deborah A. Miranda The people you cannot treat as people

Whose backs bent over your fields, your kitchens, your cattle, your children

We whose hands harvested the food we planted and cultivated for your mouth, your belly.

Laura Tohe

My Body Holds Stones

By Laura Tohe My body
holds
stones
Kimberly Blaeser

The Where in My Belly

By Kimberly Blaeser Scientists say my brain and heart
are 73 percent water—
they underestimate me.
Tamiko Beyer

Equinox

By Tamiko Beyer Dear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks

soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot
Nathan Spoon

The Republic of Tenderness

By Nathan Spoon You are living inside the cup of another life. Water
is running slowly. Somewhere a hand is overflowing
with the abundance and celebration denizens dream of.
I.S. Jones

SELF-PORTRAIT OF THE BLK GIRL BECOMING THE BEAST EVERYONE THOUGHT SHE WAS

By I.S. Jones the moon is my first emotion then beast then happy rage
depending on a zealous appetite

i pull bobby pins from the kitchen of my scalp tear out nails
Margo Tamez

Brecksville, Ohio

By Margo Tamez The weather in Brecksville was in transition.
He was wearing a light jacket. The seasonal
change of weather variations,
Peggy Robles-Alvarado

Pantoum For The Gyn That Asks If I Really Want More Children

By Peggy Robles-Alvarado She insists three kids are more than enough
Puerto Rican Tías are missing wombs
Tells me I’m still young, more than “just a mom”
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