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Saúl Hernández The day Amá stopped driving, her curls became undone,
her red manicure turned pastel pink, her throat lost the sound left in it—
when a car slammed into her, pushing it towards train tracks.
The wheels of her white Oldsmobile clenched to the tracks the way a jaw latches
on to a bite.
Joshua Nguyen To begin, let us end
this sentence with no friends or en
emies. Just wrong destin
ations to sad desks in Am-
Travis Chi Wing Lau I shrug off my messenger onto the floor and forget to kiss you when I walk through the door.
Juan J. Morales Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
Tobias Wray Once done,
my father pulled
the instrument apart.
Carlos Andrés Gómez whisper through tear gas—
remind of the original
Kyle Dargan This poem is guilty. It assumed it retained
the right to ask its question after the page
came up flush against its face.
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.
Kyle Dargan “Man-law” I first violate at age ten—
my wandering fingers not appeased by picking
through my cousin’s video
game cartridges, Sports Illustrateds.
Trevino L. Brings Plenty To acknowledge so-
as a poet means I
will continue to be
emerging within an on-
slaught of the macro-