Spelling Down
By Ellen McGrath SmithI wanted bad to advance to Washington, D. C.
I wanted to be anyone but me.
The nun who had trained me for the spelling bee
needed a ride, and I was so worried all the way across town
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Any Given Name
By Cacayo BallesterosChapas is what cops are called
in my country
who threw the too tortured
in the lion pits
of the Military Academy zoo
The Museum of Stones
By Carolyn ForchéCarolyn Forché reads "The Museum of Stones" at the 2008 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
These are your stones, assembled in matchbox and tin,
collected from roadside, culvert, and viaduct,
battlefield, threshing floor, basilica, abattoir–
stones, loosened by tanks in the streets
Break
By Aracelis GirmayWhen the boys are carnivals
we gather round them in the dark room
& they make their noise while drums
ricochet against their bodies & thin air
Blk Girl Art
By Jamila WoodsPoems are bullshit unless they are eyeglasses, honey
tea with lemon, hot water bottles on tummies. I want
poems my grandma wants to tell the ladies at church
about. I want orange potato words soaking in the pot
great blood
By Sheila Maldonadoyou come from greatness
remember that
you are the descendant of great kings
remember that
Paddling the Nickel Tailings Near Sudbury
By Aaron KreuterWe put in at the edge of the tailings pond,
our canoe loaded with gear and food
to take us on the four-day loop trip,
our nylon tent and stainless steel pots.
Need
By Peter Cook and Kenny LernerNeed, desperate need, eagle-taloned need
is a pumping drill. The oil sloshes
to the brim. The lid slams and it’s a tanker
spewing smoke. It burps and hisses
Man on a Sofa
By Lee SharkeyA man is lying on a sofa.
The man has been reading.
He has laid down the book beside him.
The man's form is waiting to be occupied.