We are not reconciled to the oppressors who whet their howl on our grief.
By Danielle BadraWe are not born to be barons of wealth. We
are soft spoken wordsmiths, not soldiers. We are
not broken by hardship or hate. We are not
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Witnesses
By Ellen BassToday is gray, drizzling,
but not enough for drops to pool
on the tips of the silver needles
or soak the bark of the pines at Ponary—
This Is What Makes Us Worlds
By Joshua Jennifer EspinozaLike light but
in reverse we billow.
We turn a corner
and make the hills
etheree for black women
By JP Howardblack women we be trying to hold worlds
on our backs, in our hearts without fail
some days we fail at perfection
a good woman would never
By Sylvia Beatofor years you told no one
how you cried yourself to sleep
after the doctor held your hand
The Pinko Commie Dyke Returns
By Julie Enszerto the place where the idea
of being a pinko commie dyke
first entered her mind,
love isn’t
By Pat Parker (d.)I wish I could be
the lover you want
come joyful
bear brightness
‘I am broken by the revolt exploding inside me’
By Minal HajratwalaYour rage is pomegranates spilling open on ice, is the flute’s thin silver seam, is a volcano spitting rivulets of fire to wash clean these corrupt lands.
Aunty Mary and Her “Friend” Ruth, 1910
By Sarah SansoloYou wear the faded muslin—
did it begin yours or mine?
Everything we have is both.
Everything we are is both,
Too Pretty
By Sunu P. ChandyOctober on the subway, roses at my side
kids being loud. One skinny girl
with a cap and a pretty smile
gets up to give me her seat