Loaded
By Patricia MonaghanThey were always taught that all guns were loaded.
It was a way, he said, to keep them safe.
Don't you notice, he said, how people get shot
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The Borders Are Fluid Within Us
By Dan VeraThis is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.
Hilt’s Law
By Jacob RakovanThe bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.
‘N’em
By Jericho BrownThey said to say goodnight
And not goodbye, unplugged
The TV when it rained. They hid
Hearing of Alia Muhammed Baker’s Stroke
By Philip MetresHow a Basra librarian
could haul the books each night,
load by load, into her car,
Cerberus
By Beth CopelandWhat do the howling hounds hear that we can't?
The moon sharpens its sword on the Earth's stone.
Palm trees on the shores of the Tigris stand sentinel,
Red-Tailed Hawk
By Patricia MonaghanJust past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.
Postmark from the Transition
By Rachel M. Simonthe name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
Prayer at Plymouth Church
By Margaret RozgaLet there be drums and harps,
piccolos and flutes, violins,
banjos and guitars.
poppies are not (Enough
By Daniela ElzaI drink a blood sunset down Cardinal Avenue.
my shoes soaked poppies my mind quiet as
a book with a bomb in its mouth.