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Matt Daly

Hard Winter

By Matt Daly Everywhere I go, people are shouting
at one another, people are shaking

their fists at one another. Everywhere
I go, I see someone knapping

an edge to a stone.
Sherwin Bitsui

from Dissolve

By Sherwin Bitsui Father's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
Camille T. Dungy

Frequently Asked Questions: #7

By Camille T. Dungy Is it difficult to get away from it all once you've had a child?



I am swaying in the galley — working

to appease this infant who is not



fussing but will be fussing if I don't move —
Lauren Camp

Pause Hawk Cloud Enter

By Lauren Camp The soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.

Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
Linda Hogan

Eagle Feather Prayer

By Linda Hogan I thank the eagle and Old Mother for this prayer
I send to earth and sky
and the sacred waters. I thank Old Mother
and the golden eagle, the two who taught me to pray
Dominique Christina

Mothers of Murdered Sons

By Dominique Christina Dominique Christina performs the poem "Mothers of Murdered Sons" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Veronica Golos

Standing Rock, Part I

By Veronica Golos Have I stepped back in time, or forward?
A graveled road, hovering flags, the sound
of waves against chunk rock -- and
voices billow into birds,
Pamela Alexander

Makers

By Pamela Alexander We didn’t waste them. We used the trees
to build, to burn. Some jungles
got in our way, and animals, especially bears.
Linda Hogan

History

By Linda Hogan This is the word that is always bleeding.
You didn't think this
until you country changes and when it thunders
you search your own body
Dominique Christina

For Margaret Garner (28 days free until)

By Dominique Christina When the sun is pitiless
When the girl is a gust of get out fast
When the boys are forced to mingle with the forest
When the baby, still nursing leaves her mother
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