Skip to Content
Amaranth Borsuk Few things the hand wished language could
do, given up on dialect's downward spiral:
words so readily betray things they're meant
Richard Blanco All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
Kenji Liu Sharp tenure of boots in this callow country
grown from open skulls. A raw harvest of bullet casings
arranged in a perfect ring around you,
Patricia Monaghan They were always taught that all guns were loaded.
It was a way, he said, to keep them safe.
Don't you notice, he said, how people get shot
Jacob Rakovan The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.
Gowri Koneswaran we're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
Brian Fanelli Every Sunday, I came dressed in punk rocker black,
checkered pants, steel-toed Docs.
No tie dye on me when I joined
Margaret Rozga Let there be drums and harps,
piccolos and flutes, violins,
banjos and guitars.
Merna Hecht This morning I am remembering you, how as honored guest
you talked with my students who had recently arrived in America
from refugee camps where borders are stacked with blood and bullets.
Jonathan B. Tucker pardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence