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Joseph O. Legaspi

Amphibians

By Joseph O. Legaspi Amphibians live in both.

Immigrants leave their land,
hardening in the sea.

Out of water.
Deborah Ager

Fires on Highway 192

By Deborah Ager In Florida, it was raining ash because the fire
demanded it. I had to point my car landward
and hope the smoke would part, but it was a grey sea
absorbing my body. Cabbage Palms were annihilated.
Chen Chen

Set the Garden on Fire

By Chen Chen My friend’s new neighbors in the suburbs
are planting a neat row of roses
between her house & theirs.
Ross Gay

To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian

By Ross Gay Tumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
T. J. Jarrett

Of Late, I Have Been Thinking About Despair

By T. J. Jarrett its ruthless syntax, and the ease with which it interjects
itself into our days. I thought how best to explain this—

this dark winter, but that wasn’t it, or beds unshared
but that isn’t exactly it either, until I remembered
Hermine Pinson

Test for Cognitive Function

By Hermine Pinson Mother

Slipper

July

“ I will ask you to recall these words

at the end of our session”
Danez Smith

not an elegy for Mike Brown

By Danez Smith I am sick of writing this poem

but bring the boy. his new name

his same old body. ordinary, black

dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
Ruth Irupé Sanabria

Hija

By Ruth Irupé Sanabria I am the daughter of doves
That disappeared into dust
Hear my pulse whisper:

Bulletproof

By Sue D. Burton Today it’s Hopkins and his obscure spiritual contraptions –
everything I read is heart-corseted, like a concealable vest,
police surplus good as new. Some fanatic is packing a gun.

Above Average

By Lindsay Vaughn Women who are not ready we have our own ways

we take pills lie in our lovers’ beds

curled like blades of grass we wait for the writhing wind

that aches and rocks our slender bodies they whisper
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