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Maricielo Ampudia Gutiérrez

DREAMers Mark Themselves

By Maricielo Ampudia Gutiérrez With each finger, I pressed on black ink, and one by one placed them on the transmitting screen. Following instruction, I rolled each finger, left to right, and slow—every quarter inch of skin recorded. On the display, perfect fingerprints glowing.
Justice Ameer

when white supremacy kills me

By Justice Ameer when white supremacy kills me
don’t let them scrub my rage from internet
demand i be both angry and righteous
Tarik Dobbs

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

By Tarik Dobbs Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water…
For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank.
Safia Elhillo

In Memory of Kamau Brathwaite

By Safia Elhillo i sat by the lake & ate five tiny oranges & every strand
of flesh & pith was my teacher
i grew warm & soft in the sun & from this ripening
made a poem to search for my teacher
Noor Ibn Najam

يقبرني to bury me. you take your turn first

By Noor Ibn Najam to become earth’s sugar, to be a seedless
orange offered. to want fruit
to unwind from the concept of sex
Azura Tyabji

Diaspora

By Azura Tyabji If the meaning of the prayer was not passed down to you,
find it through holier means than translation.
Cling to the rhythm instead.
Kimberly Blaeser

A Water Poem for Remembering

By Kimberly Blaeser Yes, it’s true I speak ill of the living
in coded ways divorced from the dead.
Why Lyla June fasts on capitol steps.
Mahogany L. Browne

Do not make Grief your God

By Mahogany L. Browne Instead
Make it a cup of coffee
The espresso percolator wheezing on
The biggest eye
On the stove
Cameron Awkward-Rich

Meditations in an Emergency

By Cameron Awkward-Rich I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds
& the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside.
I ride the train, walk among the buildings, men in
Monday suits.
Eve L. Ewing

it wouldn’t take much

By Eve L. Ewing This poem is in PNG format accompanied by an image description of the text.
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