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TC Tolbert

In someone else’s home, 2018 February 08

By TC Tolbert In someone else’s home, 2018 February 08,

you are sitting in front of a considerable yellow mirror. Carved

into the frame of the mirror are flowers, the leaves

of which, were they solo, could be mistaken for thumb

-nails lined up at a salon waiting for the arrival of the hands

to which they should be attached. There are fish underwater

above you trying to tell the night what is coming.
Saretta Morgan

One Scenario

By Saretta Morgan More than a decade after being sentenced I share the news with my mom.
Laura Tohe

My Body Holds Stones

By Laura Tohe My body
holds
stones
Naomi Ortiz

Tonight: Rebellious Resistance

By Naomi Ortiz base booms opposite my scooter
rattles
I am obstruction
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.
Natalie Diaz

Ode to the Beloved’s Hips

By Natalie Diaz Natalie Diaz reads "Ode to the Beloved's Hips" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Natalie Diaz

Why I Don’t Mention Flowers When Conversations with My Brother Reach Uncomfortable Silences

By Natalie Diaz In the Kashmir mountains,
my brother shot many men,
blew skulls from brown skins,
Gowri Koneswaran

Hold

By Gowri Koneswaran we're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or