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Niki Herd

Blessed Be

By Niki Herd the black body found
next door near the house where
the blind girl lived
Elmaz Abinader

Where the Body Rests

By Elmaz Abinader Our skin has turned to parchment
Our skin has turned to parchment
Our skin are the scrolls upon which
This history will be written
Venus Thrash

Gunpowder Lives

By Venus Thrash Ever 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.
Ross Gay

A Small Needful Fact

By Ross Gay Is that Eric Garner worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
Amina Iro

26

By Amina Iro This poem is in video format.
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
Lois Beardslee

Manitogiizans/December

By Lois Beardslee When I asked my mother
If she could remember
What her mother's mother called December
Oliver de la Paz

Diaspora 2

By Oliver de la Paz The way is written in the dark:

it has steel in it, something metallic, a gun,

a mallet, a piece of machinery--

something cold like the sea, something,
Ailish Hopper

Ways to Be White in a Poem

By Ailish Hopper Tension makes
a form resound

and so the many lines I am told
not to cross
Bettina Judd

THE INAUGURATION OF EXPERIMENTS, December 1845

By Bettina Judd Lucy didn’t scream like most. Though sometimes she
would moan--deep, long and overdue. I’d wake
thinking death. It’s her, knees curled under, head face
down, her body trying to move out of itself. Anarcha
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