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Kim Roberts Oysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,
but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
Beth Spencer In the atrium of the principal church
in a certain Irish city
it is said a girl can find beneath a bench
among the tea roses the name of an abortionist.
Karen Skolfield Balloon, then papier mâché.
Gray paint, blue and turquoise, green,
a clouded world with fishing line attached
Allison Adelle Hedge Coke In a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
Sam Taylor And 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
Joseph O. Legaspi Amphibians live in both.
Immigrants leave their land,
hardening in the sea.
Out of water.
Wendell Berry We forget the land we stand on
and live from. We set ourselves
free in an economy founded
on nothing, on greed verified
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 My friend’s new neighbors in the suburbs
are planting a neat row of roses
between her house & theirs.
Ross Gay Tumbling through the
city in my
mind without once