Postmark from the Transition
By Rachel M. Simonthe name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Rachel M. Simonthe name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
By Kamilah Aisha MoonHuge dashes in the sand, two or three
times a year they swim like words
in a sentence toward the period
By María Luisa ArroyoMami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
By Cathy Linh CheI see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
By DaMaris B. HillI 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 Zohra SaedBehave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar
By Carolee Bennett SherwoodThey build boxes upon boxes, great honeycomb cities. Rumbling
trucks deliver parcels of pollen. Pretzel vendors leave good luck
trails of salt along the sidewalks. Busy taxi cab tongues lick up
By Ellen Haganthe ones who brought your father here, come. Bring
with them whole almonds, dried berries & clementines
wrapped in cloth. Their clothes & smart shoes too.
By Purvi ShahThe mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling
By Marilyn NelsonSomebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.