What Happens When the Matriarch Dies
By MT VallartaWe braid her hair, every strand a thread
of flesh. We caress her from mouth
to root, feeling every tale—every tree,
every cliff—nestled in her folds.
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Summer Figs
By Ina Cariñowhen I turn seventy & you are gone,
will my muscles still heft with ease
a crate of summer figs---one
bruised fig for every year of my life---
from the tree in your backyard?
Intervention
By ChrysanthemumI hate the question: What would you say to your younger self? Too inexact. With what means? Through which technologies? Landline? Lie detector? Telepathy? Is it automatic? Call dispatch? Concierge? What’s the cost?
Self-Portrait as War Museum Captions
By Monica SokA daughter of survivors stands in the grass among tattered military tanks. She is the only one in her family who wants to visit the museum. Siem Reap, Cambodia. Nov 2016.
“Loud little weed eater.” A worker cuts the grass and the noise activates the scene of a battlefield.
Water Birth
By JoAnn BalingitThere’s no usurping her pain
now the baby’s head is crowning
mom mom mom mom mom
no panting I say
take deep breaths through your nose
Immigration
By YanyiThe teacup with the broken
handle: no longer missing.
Arriving in my mother’s hand
as she sets it down for service.
Then the dish in the air touches
down at its place on red carpet
and the Fisher Price karaoke mic
rights and repairs itself.
Cedar Waxwing, Pyracantha II
By Lehua M. TaitanoHere are the ones I think will come: Wren, chestnut backed chickadee, hairy woodpecker, scrub jay. Words of a dream retold dissolve into pulp, into seed glue. Into chips of memory. This morning, I’ve a soft waxwing in hand. We are both stunned. His eye is cast beyond currents or cadence.
ETYMOLOGY OF BORDERS
By Jaz SufiBORDER, from the Middle English bordure, meaning “the decorative band
surrounding a shield,” a heraldic device intended to identify
possession — this flag flies over that land, & so this land belongs
to…
The Way As Promised Has Mile Markers To Guide Us
By Dujie TahatPops bought a ‘78 Pontiac,
a firebird-stamped gold bar
on wheels, spontaneously,
after a conversation with
an aunt’s friend—so it went.
Back Home
By Gauri Awasthimy friend is dying of an invisible darkness
it’s either depression or loneliness or plain facts:
a) Her cancer-smitten grandpa wants her to marry
b) We think she’s queer, but she can’t be sure
c) She has only two reasons to live and one of them
happens to be me.