Graveyard Picnic
By Ina Cariñomemory of magnolia on lapels. grandfather’s paper
cheeks pale, teeth whiter than frosted hibiscus.
when I visit the mausoleum, I lay a white cloth on his tomb,
mesh of cobwebs stretched across the buds
Search Results
The B-Sides of the Golden Records, Track Two: “Sounds of Human Labor”
By Sumita ChakrabortyWe may try to change the shape of your body, or the color of your skin,
or the kinds of sounds that your mouths make, to match how we think you should.
The Such Thing As the Ridiculous Question –
By Siaara FreemanWhen I say ancestors, let’s be clear:
I mean slaves. I’m talkin’ Tennessee
cotton & Louisiana suga. I mean grave dirt.
All The Kids With Rhythm Bang on Metal Locker Doors At Lunchtime
By Joselia Rebekah HughesBlack able rack able
hack able tack able
lack able slack able
Equinox
By Tamiko BeyerDear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks
soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot
Hull
By Lisbeth WhiteAt the end of the field are tracks
train metal iron sound called whistle
to me a blare that splits air before it
SELF-PORTRAIT OF THE BLK GIRL BECOMING THE BEAST EVERYONE THOUGHT SHE WAS
By I.S. Jonesthe moon is my first emotion then beast then happy rage
depending on a zealous appetite
i pull bobby pins from the kitchen of my scalp tear out nails
we ask mama-n-em, “where is the motherworld?”
By Destiny Hemphilllisten.
it’s in, not at. in the whistle & hiss, the steam of your breath as you chant
we ready (we ready), we comin (we comin) atop of a jail
building in ruins. yes, it’s in your breath & in the never dwindling
kindle of your fingertips as you reach out & touch
chewbacca was the blackest part of “The Force Awakens”
By Cyrée Jarelle JohnsonBlack excitement is danger. We have seen the other side of optimism for so long. Feels like fiction. Put your feet up on that dashboard because here comes the F U T U R E! Wow! Chewbacca was the blackest part of "The Force Awakens."
_139_134_c1_smart_scale.jpg)
ma’am, i’m sorry to tell you, your son is d-
By Darius Simpsondangerously good at freeze tag, like ghost good
drenched in red puddles, but on his way
down by the gutter river