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.
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Pithy
By Travis Chi Wing LauI shrug off my messenger onto the floor and forget to kiss you when I walk through the door.
To the woman I saw today who wept in her car
By Bianca Lynne SpriggsWoman,
I get it.
We are strangers,
but I know the heart is a hive
and someone has knocked yours
from its high branch in your chest
THE MOTEL CLERK’S SON DRIVES OUT TO CHECK ON BUSINESS, 1977
By Allison Pitinii DavisBefore him, stickers fade across the bumper:
LAST ONE OUT OF TOWN, TURN OFF THE LIGHTS.
The last employer in Youngstown is the weather:
the truck behind him plows grey snow to the roadside
Hearing of Alia Muhammed Baker’s Stroke
By Philip MetresHow a Basra librarian
could haul the books each night,
load by load, into her car,
Road at Ache
By Kazim AliI was whispered along the road at Ache
toward the sun-puddled gate
Day at the Pond Without Geese
By Jeff GundyA good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
Maine
By Carly SachsWhere does memory go?
Our windows looking out on the bay,
my wet clothes hanging on the antlers
For the Fifty (Who Formed PEACE With Their Bodies)
By Philip MetresIn the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis