The Opposite of Holding in Breath—
By Hari Allurithe tea in her glass. It glows the brocade.
Her grandmother picked that tea
on a mountain—a mountain in a war
whose shores were her bed. Steeping, the petals
Search Results
Ode to the Beloved’s Hips
By Natalie DiazNatalie Diaz reads "Ode to the Beloved's Hips" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
A Small Needful Fact
By Ross GayIs that Eric Garner worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
A Patch of Blue in Tenleytown
By L. Lamar WilsonShe ambles about this Mickey-Dee kitchen’s din,
unmoved by the hot grease threatening
her ¿puedo tomar su orden? mask.
First Morning Poem
By Allison Adelle Hedge CokeIn a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian
By Ross GayTumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
Temple
By Rayna MomenUnprotected sex is a woman in America.
Unprotected sex is a woman in the world.
My body is my temple and will always be
it is not some place where you go to pray
Reclaim
By Adele HamptonI'm not afraid to say abortion. It's a word that falls lead-heavy out of the mouth like your tongue can't handle the weight society hangs from its unassuming letters.
Ways to Count the Dead
By Persis M. KarimTake their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.
Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost
Anxiety Attack at 27,000 Feet
By Nicholas SamarasWhat is that red throbbing over the sound of engines?
Why is a distant war still being talked about in the media?
I can't see my home or Iraq or the Middle East
outside this bowed rectangle of blue altitude.