We are not reconciled to the oppressors who whet their howl on our grief.
By Danielle BadraWe are not born to be barons of wealth. We
are soft spoken wordsmiths, not soldiers. We are
not broken by hardship or hate. We are not
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Spaghetti Western
By John JamesIn Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
Still Life with Bullets
By Paulette BeeteOrlando Jones, a black actor, douses himself
in a bucket of bullets. I flinch. Bullet against
brown skin even without the bruised and
busted aftermath is no easy thing to bear.
Calvinist Parents
By Sharon OldsThey put roofs over our heads.
Ours was made of bent tiles,
so the edge of the roof had a broken look,
In Translation
By Elizabeth AcevedoMy mouth cannot write you a white flag.
It will never be a Bible verse.
My mouth cannot be shaped into the apology
Abecedarian Yellow
By Dan VeraA is for apple.
B is for banana – treasure fruit of the tropics
which replaced the apple on the breakfast table of Victorian America.
C is for Carmen Miranda smiling
Frequently Asked Questions: #7
By Camille T. DungyIs 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 —
Dear INTELLIGENCE JOURNAL,
By Solmaz SharifLovely dinner party. Darling CASUALTIES and lean
sirloin DAMAGE of the COLLATERAL sort.
Extended my LETTER OF OFFER AND ACCEPTANCE
to the DESIRED INTERNAL AUDIENCE, reaching
That Map of Bone and Opened Valves
By Ilya KaminskyI watched a sergeant aim, the deaf boy take iron and fire in his mouth—
his face on the asphalt,
that map of bone and opened valves.
It’s the air. Something in the air wants us too much
Aaaayeee Babo (Praise God)
By Sonia SanchezThere are women sailing the sky
I walk between them
They who wear silk, muslin and burlap skins touching mine
They who dance between urine and violets