My Father’s Hands / Las manos de mi padre
By Alison Roh ParkMy daddy's hands were scarred
and through the smallest details escaped
years ago I remember them a strong
brown like here is the axe that missed
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Kitchen, Donetsk
By Susanna LangShe had planned to offer peaches with the tea.
August was warm; the fruit had ripened to perfection.
She’d placed two paring knives on the cutting board,
set out the teapot with nasturtiums painted on the side.
The International Fruit of Welcome
By Kim RobertsKim Roberts performs the poem "The International Fruit of Welcome" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
One Turn Around the Sun
By Tim SeiblesTim Seibles performs "One Turn Around the Sun" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
PROTANDRIC
By Kim RobertsOysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,
but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
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
Grace Before Meals
By Lauren K. AlleyneAs a child, I'd refuse to eat my veggies,
pushing them round and round my plate
until my mother's glare unclamped my jaw