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Adrian Gaston Garcia

Cutting my dad’s fingernails

By Adrian Gaston Garcia He says that he’s too embarrassed to ask me for this favor
But in his Spanish it sounds sweeter, more innocent, almost childlike

He sets up his station at the dining room table:
A paper towel and two different set of nail clippers

He folds the paper towel in half
before placing his withered and wrinkled hands on top

He lets me hold them
I cannot remember the last time we held hands
Ashley Hajimirsadeghi

APOTHEOSIS: DROUGHT

By Ashley Hajimirsadeghi These days, even spare breadcrumbs are hard to come by. My mother steals seeds
from the birds, jokes she plucks them from their beaks, claims even the ocean’s water

isn’t free anymore. We became who our ancestors feared, the kind of people who
forgot our gods & cursed at the sun, denied how it both gave & refused life.
Malcolm Friend

Diasporican Rechristening

By Malcolm Friend We work.
We are sometimes on time.
We are sometimes late.
We are sometimes
coming up with the excuses
for why we can’t make it
even as we know we have to.
Some of us are trying to be American
and some of us are trying to be boricua
and some of us are trying.
Mia S. Willis

for imam khaliifah ibn rayford daniels.

By Mia S. Willis when the state murdered a poet
none of us slept none of us deserved to
the way we stood by with pens and phones and helpless guilt
Jalynn Harris

Druid Hill Park, Baltimore MD

By Jalynn Harris At the entrance, six copper pillars stand tall as a wave
as once did six-fingered Lucille. She lived here, too–

The light alone enough to fill the lake. I walk the park
because I’m weak. All flesh and fur needing

to get out my bark. My rough squeeze of please please
A red bird. Another mile. My feet eat the concrete.
Raye Hendrix

What Good Is Heaven

By Raye Hendrix when my mother dreamed of children she pictured
things in bowls beautiful fish gracing over

brightly colored stones clear water a bowl of her favorite
fruits ceramic overflowing pears and tangerines

blueberries fat with sweet
Olatunde Osinaike

Cold Open

By Olatunde Osinaike Three stories below,
you’d mosey in, depart
in the same way:
short of our buzz or us
letting you in.
Simon Shieh

Speaking of History

By Simon Shieh Speaking of History

I don’t want to say too much

[ ]

Your absence made the train car redolent of history
Aliah Lavonne Tigh

Body Under Another’s Tradition

By Aliah Lavonne Tigh Everyone in Anatomy pairs up,
receives a small baby pig.
The scalpel shines like water or a mirror—if you look, you see
yourself: gloved hand pushing a blade to open
the other animal’s chest. Someone drops
a knife, shouts,
Clean it up. This is how we learn to
dissect a body.
Kat Abdallah

Performativity

By Kat Abdallah My teachers ask me
after seven months of genocide
if I’m holding up alright.
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