To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian
By Ross GayTumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Ross GayTumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
By Linda HoganWe had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small
By Ruth Irupé SanabriaI am the daughter of doves
That disappeared into dust
Hear my pulse whisper:
By Sue D. BurtonToday it’s Hopkins and his obscure spiritual contraptions –
everything I read is heart-corseted, like a concealable vest,
police surplus good as new. Some fanatic is packing a gun.
By Lindsay VaughnWomen who are not ready we have our own ways
we take pills lie in our lovers’ beds
curled like blades of grass we wait for the writhing wind
that aches and rocks our slender bodies they whisper
By Rayna MomenUnprotected sex is a woman in America.
Unprotected sex is a woman in the world.
My body is my temple and will always be
it is not some place where you go to pray
By Adele HamptonI'm not afraid to say abortion. It's a word that falls lead-heavy out of the mouth like your tongue can't handle the weight society hangs from its unassuming letters.
By Sara BrickmanOwosso, Michigan is cinder blocks
stacked on top of potato cellars and steamrolled
grey. There’s a lot of corn,
By Kendra DeColoIt is easy to believe
we are separate entities,
you and I
as I wait, a fish in the chasm
By Teresa ScollonLook how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid
these children down at the fire where stories are told.