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Aideed Medina

Stone

By Aideed Medina De piedra, sangre.

I make my own heaven. I drag it out of the streets, and inhospitable terrains. I mixed "tabique", brick, mortar with my hands, kneading,
I need, to make my own heaven
Jessica (Tyner) Mehta

The Seeds for Distinction*

By Jessica (Tyner) Mehta Conductor drives us, the cow-
catcher barreling straight into the teeth
of Memory’s harshest winter.
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.

Jennifer Elise Foerster

From “Shadow Poems”

By Jennifer Foerster The war appeared to be coming to an end.

The no-name people not yet taken
left their crops for summer’s drought.
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.
Naomi Ortiz

Tonight: Rebellious Resistance

By Naomi Ortiz base booms opposite my scooter
rattles
I am obstruction
Darrel Alejandro Holnes

Breaking & Entering

By Darrel Alejandro Holnes Only beasts are supposed to hibernate.
But this brother has been lying there
for years. Truth isn’t a news headline.
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,
Kimberly Blaeser

Poem on Disappearance

By Kimberly Blaeser Beginning with our continent, draw 1491:
each mountain, compass point Indigenous;
trace trade routes, languages, seasonal migrations—
don’t become attached.
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