The Borders Are Fluid Within Us
By Dan VeraThis is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.
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‘N’em
By Jericho BrownThey said to say goodnight
And not goodbye, unplugged
The TV when it rained. They hid
Things I Carried Coming Into the World
By Remica L. BinghamThe weight of my parents,
the dawn of them;
my grandmother's lackluster
Cerberus
By Beth CopelandWhat do the howling hounds hear that we can't?
The moon sharpens its sword on the Earth's stone.
Palm trees on the shores of the Tigris stand sentinel,
Hold
By Gowri Koneswaranwe're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
Ma Mere n’a Jamais eu des ailes (My momma never had wings)
By Pages MatamMa Mere n'a Jamais eu des ailes
My momma never had wings
But she could tap dance on hurricanes
American Herstory
By celeste doaksTell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
The Sign
By Jonathan B. Tuckerpardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
How to write a poem, according to Souha Bechara
By Zein El-AmineSit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
Stewing
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.