poppies are not (Enough
By Daniela ElzaI drink a blood sunset down Cardinal Avenue.
my shoes soaked poppies my mind quiet as
a book with a bomb in its mouth.
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American Herstory
By celeste doaksTell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
Special Effects
By Merna HechtThis morning I am remembering you, how as honored guest
you talked with my students who had recently arrived in America
from refugee camps where borders are stacked with blood and bullets.
The Sign
By Jonathan B. Tuckerpardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
Notes on a Mass Stranding
By Kamilah Aisha MoonHuge dashes in the sand, two or three
times a year they swim like words
in a sentence toward the period
barreras
By María Luisa ArroyoMami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
How to write a poem, according to Souha Bechara
By Zein El-AmineSit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
Split
By Cathy Linh CheI see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
Stewing
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
Kandahar
By Zohra SaedBehave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar