Split
By Cathy Linh CheI see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.
Search Results
Kandahar
By Zohra SaedBehave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar
Apiary
By Carolee Bennett SherwoodThey build boxes upon boxes, great honeycomb cities. Rumbling
trucks deliver parcels of pollen. Pretzel vendors leave good luck
trails of salt along the sidewalks. Busy taxi cab tongues lick up
Before Your Arrival
By Ellen Haganthe ones who brought your father here, come. Bring
with them whole almonds, dried berries & clementines
wrapped in cloth. Their clothes & smart shoes too.
Loss is an art, traversing one world to the next
By Purvi ShahThe mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling
I Will Not
By Kathy Engelwrite about the killing of Troy Davis or
the years he claimed innocence so many times
the words fell from his mouth like drops of honey.
Groundwork
By M.J. IuppaThe fence that wasn't a barrier, that didn't hold
anything back or up, but was the grid over the scene of
smoke rising, smoldering from September
Poets Against the War
By Susan BrennanWe stand at the Capitol
seized in snapshots
of curious tourists
Normal
By Reginald Harriswalk long enough
with a pebble in your shoe
and walking with a pebble becomes
normal