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Kyle Dargan

Poem Resisting Arrest

By Kyle Dargan This poem is guilty. It assumed it retained
the right to ask its question after the page

came up flush against its face.
Trevino L. Brings Plenty

Red-ish Brown-ish

By Trevino L. Brings Plenty Arms, face, scrotum – dark brown.
The kind of brown to drive
monsters to exterminate
bison to starve
a people.
Maricielo Ampudia Gutiérrez

DREAMers Mark Themselves

By Maricielo Ampudia Gutiérrez With each finger, I pressed on black ink, and one by one placed them on the transmitting screen. Following instruction, I rolled each finger, left to right, and slow—every quarter inch of skin recorded. On the display, perfect fingerprints glowing.
Justice Ameer

when white supremacy kills me

By Justice Ameer when white supremacy kills me
don’t let them scrub my rage from internet
demand i be both angry and righteous
Tarik Dobbs

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

By Tarik Dobbs Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water…
For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank.
Daria-Ann Martineau

Again

By Daria-Ann Martineau I find myself noticing you again
eight years later,
you coming out of the earth, pale,
erect, shadow over men.
You can’t be buried.
Natalie Wee

Self-Portrait as Pop Culture Reference

By Natalie Wee I was born in 1993, the year Regie Cabico became the first
Asian American to win the Nuyorican Poets Cafe Grand Slam.
Shatha Almutawa

What To Expect When Traveling with Your Arab Wife

By Shatha Almutawa When they ask you
How many days were you away?
Don’t say two weeks
They want to know the exact number
Tell them 11 days
Claudia Rojas

Residence

By Claudia Rojas (We) DMV centers will see and take less of us.
We
(are) We will not miss a day of work or school
Darius Simpson

ma’am, i’m sorry to tell you, your son is d-

By Darius Simpson dangerously good at freeze tag, like ghost good
drenched in red puddles, but on his way
down by the gutter river
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