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Lip Manegio

the day i died, my therapist asked how my week was going & i told him i am reading stone butch blues

By Lip Manegio the trees were dying again. i had been spending
more time on the porch than usual, letting
the early november freeze get the better
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.
Emily K. Michael

Blindness Locked Me Out

By Emily K. Michael The speed reading class for seventh graders
slumped over tight columns of text spread flat
on tables in the library where in her half-glasses
Juan J. Morales

Of Avocados

By Juan J. Morales Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
Hari Alluri

Clarification Card: The Spiral (“The cigarette is pretext: smoke rises from within”)

By Hari Alluri Unless you’re practiced as a lola’s wrinkles,
do not flip the lit side of the yosi in your mouth.
They developed this skill in war and carried it
Janlori Goldman

Ode to Jacob Blinder

By Janlori Goldman His face stared out into the living room
of my grandparents’ walk-up on E. 13th.
After they died my father hung him
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.

Tobias Wray

Music Arises from Component Parts or The Dream of a Clarinet

By Tobias Wray Once done,
my father pulled
the instrument apart.
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.
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