All The Kids With Rhythm Bang on Metal Locker Doors At Lunchtime
By Joselia Rebekah HughesBlack able rack able
hack able tack able
lack able slack able
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PONDEROSA PINE
By Liza SparksWhen a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
the day i died, my therapist asked how my week was going & i told him i am reading stone butch blues
By Lip Manegiothe trees were dying again. i had been spending
more time on the porch than usual, letting
the early november freeze get the better
Of Avocados
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
The Where in My Belly
By Kimberly BlaeserScientists say my brain and heart
are 73 percent water—
they underestimate me.
SELF-PORTRAIT OF THE BLK GIRL BECOMING THE BEAST EVERYONE THOUGHT SHE WAS
By I.S. Jonesthe 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
Brecksville, Ohio
By Margo TamezThe weather in Brecksville was in transition.
He was wearing a light jacket. The seasonal
change of weather variations,
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Pantoum For The Gyn That Asks If I Really Want More Children
By Peggy Robles-AlvaradoShe insists three kids are more than enough
Puerto Rican Tías are missing wombs
Tells me I’m still young, more than “just a mom”
This is the city that I love
By Rosemary FerreiraHabichuelas bubbling on the stovetop. The kitchen door opens to our backyard. My father cuts out a piece of the campo and plants it here in Brooklyn. There are neighbors who knock on the door with a broom to let us know they’re selling pasteles. The train rumbles into a screech in the background, “This is Gates Avenue, the next stop is...”