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Candice Iloh

everyone knows what happened

By Candice Iloh the parents got a phone call from the school
the school told the parents the behavior was

inappropriate something that won’t be tolerated unacceptable
Moncho Alvarado

Amá Teaches Me How to Whistle

By Moncho Alvarado She said, it's facil, look up, kiss everything,
hold the sun between your mouth,

blow like this * * * * * ****
**** * * * * **** *****

after I told her I was a woman, she wrinkled
the space between us by hugging me.
Kay Ulanday Barrett

Sick pastoral: a sick ecology poem

By Kay Ulanday Barrett Then how does candy spill? This way? Stare at the sky
as the MyChart results record blood levels. Peach laden,
cherry lacquer, lilac blossom marathon more at a window
sill on any almost-evening in... what month is it? When
statistics splay, when the masks are forgotten, there'll be
more of us we'll have to teach: catheters are ivy, monstera
fenestration consoles when you're on hold with the pharmacy
again.
Sunu P. Chandy

Impulse Buys

By Sunu P. Chandy At 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.

Noor Hindi

The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song

By Noor Hindi I won’t make metaphors out of fish. If I have to die, I choose the ocean. If I have to live, I choose you. You: Everyone I’ve ever mourned. I believe less & less of sunlight these days. I won’t die alone. To awaken crying is to awaken displaced. Ghost of your joy in the bathtub. A face in the mirror. Your nephew’s painting in the foyer.
Karla Cordero

A Conversation With Siri About Death

By Karla Cordero i watch slasher movies but hate the sight of real blood leave the body

i panic on planes & think of ways the machine or sky

will betray me i read books in fear to evaporate

out of this world without seeing its soft hands
Ina Cariño

Graveyard Picnic

By Ina Cariño memory of magnolia on lapels. grandfather’s paper
cheeks pale, teeth whiter than frosted hibiscus.

when I visit the mausoleum, I lay a white cloth on his tomb,
mesh of cobwebs stretched across the buds
Golden

EVERY DAY IS A CHANCE TO REVOLT

By Golden Eyes open: I see every planet ————————–[pregnant]
with [pedestrians] –—————in their—————–[rivers]

& I wonder if this is the ————————————[Matrix]
reloaded in my [brain] ————the———————[agents]

telling me red is ———————————————[ripe]
[nectar] ——————for tomorrow’s——————[burial]
Faylita Hicks

After the George Floyd Protests, My Strange Dream

By Faylita Hicks Crawling out from between the legs of a woman
with my name still wetly slathered across her chin,

I cradle the lewd silk of our venom
up against the hot swell of my caged chest, wade out

through her front door, into the murky billows
of the damned and the damnable,
Joshua Nguyen

American Lục Bát For the End of The World [At Long Last, At Least We Have Our Language?] ...

By Joshua Nguyen To begin, let us end
this sentence with no friends or en
emies. Just wrong destin
ations to sad desks in Am-
hurst.
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