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By Lauren K. AlleyneHere is the night snarled with stars, here is the smile
full of teeth. Here is the bloom of desire, its scent swift
entering everything. Here are the arms, the legs, the heady
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Maine
By Carly SachsWhere does memory go?
Our windows looking out on the bay,
my wet clothes hanging on the antlers
Understanding Tina Turner
By Tara BettsQuiet girl found a voice mama could not quell
inside Nutbush City Limits. The baby
blasted beyond timid Annie Mae into Tina
Torso
By Francisco AragónDespite the absent head (whose eyes
were the green of apples)
IV. Wheel Spinning
By Natalie IllumThe first time I saw these activists turned
acrobats, I was immobilized as they arched
through hoops, twisting like DNA.