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Aracelis Girmay

Break

By Aracelis Girmay When the boys are carnivals
we gather round them in the dark room
& they make their noise while drums
ricochet against their bodies & thin air
Brian Gilmore

philadelphia

By Brian Gilmore like fidel after raiding
moncada barracks

we face history like
seed removed from
soil
Rosa Chávez

We, stones, were branded by hot iron

By Rosa Chávez Ri oj ab'aj xkoj qetal ruk'a k'atanalaj ch'ich'
Xk'at ri qab'aq'wach //
Las piedras fuimos marcadas con hierro candente
quemados nuestros ojos //
We, stones, were branded by hot iron
our eyes scorched

Landscapes that Remind Me of My Children / Pasajes que me Recuerdan a Mis Hijos

By Lourdes Galván Utica is a pretty and quiet country
When I was at the bus station
my son would say to me, 'mom, I am hungry'
and a man who was sweeping came up to me
Julie Enszer

Zyklon B

By Julie Enszer The painters call before we move into the new house. Ma’am, they say—

I am not old enough to be a ma’am, but I don’t correct them—
Ma’am, they say, we smell gas.

I dismiss their concern. I say, Keep painting.

Rachel Eliza Griffiths

Elegy

By Rachel Eliza Griffiths I remember the boys & their open hands. High fives
of farewell. I remember that the birches waved too,
the white jagged limbs turning away from incessant wildfires
Joshua Weiner

Hikmet: Çankiri Prison, 1938

By Joshua Weiner Today is Sunday.
Today, for the first time, they let me go out into the sun.
And I stood there I didn't move,
struck for the first time, the very first time ever:
Craig Santos Perez

From “understory”

By Craig Santos Perez kai cries
from teething--

how do
new parents
Kelli Stevens Kane

bitter crop

By Kelli Stevens Kane blueberry blackberry as always
bleeding, back road or boulevard,
our boy crowned with baton,
Allison Adelle Hedge Coke

First Morning Poem

By Allison Adelle Hedge Coke In a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
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