Hold
By Gowri Koneswaranwe're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
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Split
By Cathy Linh CheI see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
Kandahar
By Zohra SaedBehave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar
Loss is an art, traversing one world to the next
By Purvi ShahThe mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling
Take a Giant Step
By Jose PaduaAll the out of business auto body shops
on this slow highway, all the abandoned
buildings with peeling paint, the vacant
American Syntax
By Ching-In ChenThe teacher straightbacked,
faced me off, her eyes.
My face in the cleave of
her shoulder, my bones
The Red Sweater
By Joseph O. Legaspislides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
Road at Ache
By Kazim AliI was whispered along the road at Ache
toward the sun-puddled gate
A Portrait of America in Trash
By Jose PaduaI give to you a portrait of America in trash.
I give it to you with love and respect, America:
mountains of beer cans crumpled, plastic figures