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Kimberly Blaeser

The Where in My Belly

By Kimberly Blaeser Scientists say my brain and heart
are 73 percent water—
they underestimate me.
Tamiko Beyer

Equinox

By Tamiko Beyer Dear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks

soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot
Nathan Spoon

The Republic of Tenderness

By Nathan Spoon You are living inside the cup of another life. Water
is running slowly. Somewhere a hand is overflowing
with the abundance and celebration denizens dream of.
I.S. Jones

SELF-PORTRAIT OF THE BLK GIRL BECOMING THE BEAST EVERYONE THOUGHT SHE WAS

By I.S. Jones the moon is my first emotion then beast then happy rage
depending on a zealous appetite

i pull bobby pins from the kitchen of my scalp tear out nails
Margo Tamez

Brecksville, Ohio

By Margo Tamez The weather in Brecksville was in transition.
He was wearing a light jacket. The seasonal
change of weather variations,
Peggy Robles-Alvarado

Pantoum For The Gyn That Asks If I Really Want More Children

By Peggy Robles-Alvarado She insists three kids are more than enough
Puerto Rican Tías are missing wombs
Tells me I’m still young, more than “just a mom”
George Abraham

Ode to Mennel Ibtissam singing “Hallelujah” on The Voice (France), translated in Arabic

By George Abraham maybe if , ash & smolder way the – tongue own my in never but song this heard i've
– it birthed who fire the not & gospel become can , mouth right the in seen
Rosemary Ferreira

This is the city that I love

By Rosemary Ferreira Habichuelas bubbling on the stovetop. The kitchen door opens to our backyard. My father cuts out a piece of the campo and plants it here in Brooklyn. There are neighbors who knock on the door with a broom to let us know they’re selling pasteles. The train rumbles into a screech in the background, “This is Gates Avenue, the next stop is...”
Leticia Hernández-Linares

Latido

By Leticia Hernández-Linares Tus pómulos, the historic shape of your
temporal bones imitating the pirámides we carry, beating
blueprints inside of our lungs, stencil the heart
with the angles of the architecture we were born in.
Amy M. Alvarez

I keep lighting candles on my stoop and watching the wind snuff them out

By Amy M. Alvarez I keep thinking about Breonna Taylor asleep/ between fresh sheets/ I keeping thinking/ about her skin cooling after a shower/ about her hair wrapped in a satin bonnet/ I think about what she may have dreamed that night
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