because you left a good-bye note written on paper made of mummies.
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The Last Kiss by Lawdenmarc Decamora
I stay alive though, sensing velocity
as an ambulance would in a dream—
brisk, accidental. Remember the first time
your little bones cried for milk?
Two Poems by Sher Ting Chim
Why is it
when we die,
We always remember most
the song from our childhood?
My Country 'Tis: Listening to Ishmael Read by Ru Freeman
this King & Kennedy country
that fast draws
that kills slow
My Country 'Tis: Learning Their Letters by Ru Freeman
the justifiable fears
of waking from an American fantasy of arrival
in places that require defense, let him go.
My Country ‘Tis: Say My Name by Ru Freeman
they
said it was uncivil but not a crime, it is never a crime when
you die; should I begin from the beginning should I add the women,
Renisha, Rekia, Chantel, Tyisha, Yvette, Gabriella, Miriam, Jessica
Two Poems by Carol Matos
why do I devour myself/yet continue to grow new leaves?
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My Country 'Tis: Love, Philadelphia by Ru Freeman
Rocky is a myth in the air between
us untrue things this American
dream
Two Poems by Ángel García
A man sings for pesos,/on the corner, his hand/ swarmed by a song of bees
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Two Poems by Rita Mae Reese
I will give him this bird trapped in a doorway,
a mad heart in feathers and pulsing eyes.
Three Poems by Felicia Zamora
A slow/ soiling exponentially catches fire. Myth as warning. A myth stays with us, despite our/ forgetting.
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Mockingbird by Lia Purpura
Plain bird whose one song is all songs. / Who accompanied me once / while I waited and waited and no call came / and who, for god's sake, will not stop singing now.
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Two Poems by Marilyn Nelson
In petticoats, ribbons, and ostrich plumes,
with watch chains, snuff boxes, and monocles,
we were enchanted individuals
last night, cinderellas without our brooms.
Fatality on the Tracks by Patrick Hicks
Molten steel fills my ribcage,
my teeth are barbed-wire,
but the killer bees I want to spit
are stuck on the flypaper of my tongue.
Two Poems by Nicole Santalucia
" then woman, not in the way of suffering or resentment, but in the way of queer and of magic. take a fistful of dirt and poof."
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High On Dopamine He Wants You Back by Christine Butterworth-McDermott
So you loved men who combusted, / spontaneously gave yourself to the flammable, / stripped yourself bare / for their ovens, splayed yourself for their driptorches.
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The Night’s Not Finished, but It’s Leaning Against the Wall by Taylor Collier
All/ day you’ve been plunking rusted metal / into your purse, and I never stopped to / ask what you really wanted
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Three Poems by L Favicchia
"i hold a tissue paper body/ as long as i can, / or until i must exhale."
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First Story by Sarah Gambito
"What do you say to someone who has been gone for so long."
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Two Poems by Jo Blair Cipriano
Death reminds me too much of myself./ I mean, if you watched an animal die/ in agony, would you still enjoy eating its flesh?
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