Why I Don’t Mention Flowers When Conversations with My Brother Reach Uncomfortable Silences
By Natalie DiazIn the Kashmir mountains,
my brother shot many men,
blew skulls from brown skins,
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Tsunami Chant
By Wang PingI'm not a singer, but please
let me sing of the peacemakers
on the streets and internet, your candles
from part one of Diary of a Wave Outside the Sea
By Dunya MikhailThrough your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
The 8th of May: A Vow
By Daniel Nathan TerryThere are oaks that remember
what we would forget--the burn of the rope,
how a body takes on more weight
Thanks
By Yusef KomunyakaaThanks for the tree
between me & a sniper's bullet.
I don't know what made the grass
Despite
By Derrick Weston BrownYour brown skin is not a bomb.
Your brown skin does not mean bomb.
Though they doctor pictures.
No. 13, for Remembering
By Naomi AyalaTwo blocks away
where yellow cabs
zip by without stopping
from Clangings
By Steven CramerI hear the dinner plates gossip
Mom collected to a hundred.
My friends say get on board,
Love Song for a War God
By Maria Melendez KelsonEvery part of you contains a secret language.
Your hands and feet detail what you've done.
Your appetite is great, and like the sea,
Infinite Regress of War
By Myra SklarewIn the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,