Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Indran AmirthanayagamI have not had a drink in ten
days, I declared to my close
friends, spilling the news
as well to a fellow passenger
on the bus, and earlier to birds
I greeted as I sauntered off into
the day with a constitutional
by the graves.
By River 瑩瑩 Dandelionmy mother mimics her body
stick bug straight
arms plastered to side
[i was in labor for three days
in a hospital bed in Brooklyn
the lighting was harsh for your eyes]
By Khadijah QueenLet’s skip past the facts, uncounted
deaths, pretend the seas of free faces soothe &
vaccines can protect us, you, me, my loves, stuck home
since early 2020, but I saw the slide
happening sooner, got sick mid-fall
2019 on the plane home from London, locked myself in
my cold bedroom so no one else would suffer,
held my sick breath under blankets &
heated ginger & honey & lemon & garlic &
clove & cayenne concoctions on the stove for six days.
Recovery took the rest of October & November too
but I kept my family well & since the pandemic is
over, I’m often the only masked one
left in any room
By Vickie VértizThe men inside the Pep Boys wear blue work shirts. Fingerprints on the hems. That’s
how I’m going to be: my hands with grease that won’t wash off. Like Apá buying Freon.
Fenders. My sister sniffs the little trees, outlines the posing girls with her eyes. We buy
peanuts and their candy turns our palms to red
By Candice Ilohthe parents got a phone call from the school
the school told the parents the behavior was
inappropriate something that won’t be tolerated unacceptable
By Sunu P. ChandyAt the shiny stones and rocks booth, I am unusually patient. I even consider spending a few dollars on a few pebbles. She seemed to sense that, without me saying a word, and I could feel her heart smile.
And then in one instant, everything changed. Looking toward the cashier, she saw, just hanging out there on the wall, real guns in real life.
By Rio CortezJust as close to living as you are to disappearing knowing
my limits you locate the tender spots without.
By Adela NajarroI have learned to speak dementia
by looking straight into her eyes
smiling, laughing, then digging deep
By Eugenia LeighSomeone on the internet is mourning
her dad—that old goat—with a goldmine
of anecdotes. Scraps of fondness I scrape off
her tweet—his beef wellington, her frogs. I want
By Erin HooverMy child babies a squeeze bottle of craft glue
or a lipstick tube filched from my purse.
She yanks a tissue from our coffee table