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By Sonia Sanchez
Your limbs buried
in northern muscle carry
their own heartbeat
By Marilyn Nelson
Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
By Venus Thrash
I am wearing a white tux with tails,
or a baby blue one with a ruffly shirt,
or decked out in classic black, or coolly
By Carlos Andrés Gómez
This poem is in video format.
By Kim Roberts
O augury seeker,
know and be aware...
In the book of divination,
By Judith Arcana
You read the tiny cardboard book before
you scratch the strip under Augie's New Pizza
on the back of MIA:We still don't know
By Penelope Scambly Schott
Back when I used to march
in the noon of the green world,
I sang like a crow.
By Jane Seitel
I wake into yet another day of doubt
creeping in as ants through a warped doorjamb.
The morning news brings new atrocities
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.
By Vanessa Huang
May you rest