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Lisa L. Moore

Cowgirl Filibuster

By Lisa L. Moore Word got out about the bad bill.
College students packed up their bikinis,
went back to Austin to tell those men why
Melissa Tuckey

Dick Cheney’s New Heart Speaks

By Melissa Tuckey A roadside bomb is planted in every chest
I was a pea sized fist in the dirt of a man
who had half your brains
Patricia Monaghan

Red-Tailed Hawk

By Patricia Monaghan Just past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.
Rachel Simon

Postmark from the Transition

By Rachel M. Simon the name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
DaMaris B. Hill

Stewing

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.
Sheila Black

Rosary for my Brace

By Sheila Black The brace was metal, and it fastened around the ankles.
Outside in the street there was the beggar with elephantiasis; there was
the leper, the neighbor with eyes milky blind,
Camille T. Dungy

Arthritis is one thing, the hurting another

By Camille T. Dungy The poet's hands degenerate until her cup is too heavy.
You are not required to understand.
This is not the year for understanding.
Melanie Graham

The Price of a Life

By Melanie Graham She appears again, 2-year-old riding her hip,
grief so great he can see through her birkha, past Qualaday,
into the kitchen, his mother nurturing chicken
in popping grease.
Jaime Lee Jarvis

Aral

By Jaime Lee Jarvis Was it the rush of words in that language
we understood only when we cocked our heads,
speaking on the slant, slurring our way
Richard McCann

from Nights of 1990

By Richard McCann What I could not accept was how much space
his body was taking with it: for instance, the space where
I was standing, the dazed fluorescence of his hospital room
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