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By Melanie Graham
She appears again, 2-year-old riding her hip,
grief so great he can see through her birkha, past Qualaday,
into the kitchen, his mother nurturing chicken
in popping grease.
By Lisa Suhair Majaj
If they ask you what you are,
say Arab. If they flinch, don't react,
just remember your great-aunt's eyes.
By Reginald Harris
walk long enough
with a pebble in your shoe
and walking with a pebble becomes
By Yvette Neisser Moreno
So this is how they decided to take him—
at the end of his life,
his frame shrunken, his wild rambling days over
By Tiffany Higgins
I shall build a city upon a hill
and upon a hill and upon a hill and upon a hill
I am a little shepherd piping low
By Jaime Lee Jarvis
Was it the rush of words in that language
we understood only when we cocked our heads,
speaking on the slant, slurring our way
By Philip Metres
In the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis
By Lee Sharkey
What do you do with an eye in the cup of your hand?
What do you see that you didn't?
What do you make of a sphere of jelly with fins of torn muscle?
By Lenelle Moïse
the children of haiti
are not mythological
we are starving
By Allison Adelle Hedge Coke
America, I sing back. Sing back what sung you in.
Sing back the moment you cherished breath.
Sing you home into yourself and back to reaso