Ways to Be White in a Poem
By Ailish HopperTension makes
a form resound
and so the many lines I am told
not to cross
Search Results
Zyklon B
By Julie EnszerThe painters call before we move into the new house. Ma’am, they say—
I am not old enough to be a ma’am, but I don’t correct them—
Ma’am, they say, we smell gas.
I dismiss their concern. I say, Keep painting.
Being Called a Faggot While Walking the Road to Clemson, South Carolina
By D. GilsonThe honeysuckle dew slick
& sweet this morning
& only an empty Wendy's cup
thrown to ditch
bitter crop
By Kelli Stevens Kaneblueberry blackberry as always
bleeding, back road or boulevard,
our boy crowned with baton,
First Morning Poem
By Allison Adelle Hedge CokeIn a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
Past Tense
By Sam TaylorAnd someone in a field found an old car
from the year black with beetles, eaten like lace,
and the sky fell into it, a private thing.
And everyone had a kitchen or a fold-out bed
Set the Garden on Fire
By Chen ChenMy friend’s new neighbors in the suburbs
are planting a neat row of roses
between her house & theirs.
To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian
By Ross GayTumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up