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By María Luisa Arroyo
Mami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
By Zein El-Amine
Sit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
By DaMaris B. Hill
I 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.
By Arhm Choi
If I fail my mouth this story plays again.
Back home he yanks mama's mouth
round into screams, burns
By Purvi Shah
The mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling
By Rachel McKibbens
The Mad Girls climb the wet hill,
breathe the sharp air through sick-green lungs.
The Wildest One wanders off like an old cow
By Carlos Andrés Gómez
This poem is in video format.
By Kathleen Hellen
I sit in the front row of
bleachers -- cheap seats for greater grief.
By Robin Coste Lewis
Before leaving her they put stones in her vagina
The men will only be raped but the stones will be killed
The bush caught many men to go into the stones
By Patricia Spears Jones
And I am full of worry I wrote to a friend
Worry, she replied about what—love, money, health?
All of them, I wrote back. It’s autumn, the air is clear