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Vickie Vértiz

‘70 Chevy El Camino

By Vickie Vértiz The men inside the Pep Boys wear blue work shirts. Fingerprints on the hems. That’s
how I’m going to be: my hands with grease that won’t wash off. Like Apá buying Freon.
Fenders. My sister sniffs the little trees, outlines the posing girls with her eyes. We buy
peanuts and their candy turns our palms to red
Moncho Alvarado

Amá Teaches Me How to Whistle

By Moncho Alvarado She said, it's facil, look up, kiss everything,
hold the sun between your mouth,

blow like this * * * * * ****
**** * * * * **** *****

after I told her I was a woman, she wrinkled
the space between us by hugging me.
Noor Hindi

The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song

By Noor Hindi I won’t make metaphors out of fish. If I have to die, I choose the ocean. If I have to live, I choose you. You: Everyone I’ve ever mourned. I believe less & less of sunlight these days. I won’t die alone. To awaken crying is to awaken displaced. Ghost of your joy in the bathtub. A face in the mirror. Your nephew’s painting in the foyer.
Rajiv Mohabir

Prayer

By Rajiv Mohabir I invite you back
dear wildness dear
unfathomable formless

Ashna Ali

Social Distance Theory

By Ashna Ali On an assemblage of screens on another firework evening
Ruthie Gilmore reminds us that abolition is not recitation.
Hayan Charara

Apokaluptein

By Hayan Charara The Arab apocalypse began around the year
of my birth, give or take—
the human apocalypse,
a few thousand years earlier.
Siaara Freeman

The Such Thing As the Ridiculous Question –

By Siaara Freeman When I say ancestors, let’s be clear:
I mean slaves. I’m talkin’ Tennessee
cotton & Louisiana suga. I mean grave dirt.
Cintia Santana

For My Cousin Manny Who Died in Prison

By Cintia Santana inside
a cell
a heart

(my cousin’s)

inside
his heart
(inside
a cell)
a cluster
of cells

arrested
Eugenia Leigh

One Year After My Dying Father and I Stop Speaking to Each Other Again

By Eugenia Leigh Someone on the internet is mourning
her dad—that old goat—with a goldmine

of anecdotes. Scraps of fondness I scrape off
her tweet—his beef wellington, her frogs. I want
Liza Sparks

PONDEROSA PINE

By Liza Sparks When a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
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