Training Wheels
By Joanna Acevedo“I just wanted to check in with you about your friend who passed,” my therapist says at the end of our session. “Yeah, he’s still dead,” I quip. We share a long laugh.
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Ode to My Older Sister, Letty, for Being the First in the Family to Go to College
By Jose Hernandez DiazI’m not sure if you knew it at the time, but you showed us, your younger siblings,
A great example. Maybe you were just happy going away to college,
Away from the responsibilities of watching over younger siblings all the time,
But I always remembered having pride when I’d tell people my sister
Is an English major and even more so when you became a teacher.
How to make salabat
By Kay Ulanday BarrettHoy! Listen, This is how to cut ginger, it’s a root, she said from
Chicago basement on first snow of the year. It’s the 90’s. Snow is
a big deal. Tear salt missing ocean salt, she cleared her throat.
Based on where we’re from, nothing can prepare us for frozen.
Fast forward: college friend asks How do you make that tea again?
The one you used to drink when it started to snow.
Everyday
By Maya MarshallToday’s nothing fancy: my mother lives,
a simple pleasure. My cat made biscuits
on my knee. A woman I desire,
giggled with me, invited me to touch
a whale. I fell for a man I barely know,
his delicious disdain, his persistent smile,
flaking skin and mane.
Sick pastoral: a sick ecology poem
By Kay Ulanday BarrettThen how does candy spill? This way? Stare at the sky
as the MyChart results record blood levels. Peach laden,
cherry lacquer, lilac blossom marathon more at a window
sill on any almost-evening in... what month is it? When
statistics splay, when the masks are forgotten, there'll be
more of us we'll have to teach: catheters are ivy, monstera
fenestration consoles when you're on hold with the pharmacy
again.
A Conversation With Siri About Death
By Karla Corderoi watch slasher movies but hate the sight of real blood leave the body
i panic on planes & think of ways the machine or sky
will betray me i read books in fear to evaporate
out of this world without seeing its soft hands
Social Distance Theory
By Ashna AliOn an assemblage of screens on another firework evening
Ruthie Gilmore reminds us that abolition is not recitation.
On the Subway for the First Time
By Liv MammoneThe train is a creature that moves like water.
It has no eyes, only a sharp
mouth that closes on those too slow.
The Seeds for Distinction*
By Jessica (Tyner) MehtaConductor drives us, the cow-
catcher barreling straight into the teeth
of Memory’s harshest winter.
Of Avocados
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds