For the City that Nearly Broke Me
By Reginald Dwayne BettsA woman tattoos Malik’s name above
her breast & talks about the conspiracy
to destroy blacks. This is all a fancy way
to say that someone kirked out, emptied
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My Father’s Hands / Las manos de mi padre
By Alison Roh ParkMy daddy's hands were scarred
and through the smallest details escaped
years ago I remember them a strong
brown like here is the axe that missed
Love at First Sight
By Kathi WolfeIn an elevator trapped
between the fifteenth and sixteenth
floor of her apartment building,
Sunday morning, Elizabeth, her cane
The Northern Sun
By Sherwin BitsuiSherwin Bitsui performs the poem "The Northern Sun" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
On a Playground in Park Slope, Brooklyn a Retired Neurologist from Beijing is Cursing
By Wang PingWang Ping reads "On a Playground in Park Slope, Brooklyn a Retired Neurologist from Beijing is Cursing" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
One Turn Around the Sun
By Tim SeiblesTim Seibles performs "One Turn Around the Sun" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes
By Eduardo C. CorralEduardo C. Corral reads "In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Gunpowder Lives
By Venus ThrashEver since my next-door neighbor stopped
in front of the stoop, unfolded The Post
to her son's smiling face, I've been obsessed
with the Obits page.
A Patch of Blue in Tenleytown
By L. Lamar WilsonShe ambles about this Mickey-Dee kitchen’s din,
unmoved by the hot grease threatening
her ¿puedo tomar su orden? mask.
Elegy
By Rachel Eliza GriffithsI 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