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Trace Howard DePass

Mike Brown is Eighteen

By Trace Howard DePass [And legal] now.
[Taking full advantage of the enough he is.
Might go sign up for the war.
Sylvia Beato

a good woman would never

By Sylvia Beato for years you told no one
how you cried yourself to sleep
after the doctor held your hand

Reuben Jackson

April 1975

By Reuben Jackson Should my black
Flatlander eyes
Lock on the other
Tara Betts

F.U.B.U.

By Tara Betts I am sitting in a café with my boy
that I have known longer than my
students have been alive, before the birth
Anastacia-Renee

Cedar

By Anastacia-Renee the cedar tree could not comprehend
the crime could not comprehend a leaning
a lynching a love gone wrong
Christopher Soto

THE AESTHETICS OF SUFFERING

By Christopher Soto I’m his // retired slut // on food stamps // forever
Sniffing horse tranquilizer // seeing digital dreams
Like a kitten // with eyes sewn shut // like syzygy
Joseph Ross

When Your Word Is a Match

By Joseph Ross When you walk past Klans-
men, smiling at you
on your way into the court
house, wondering how
Fred Joiner

Currency

By Fred Joiner a pocket can sometimes be
a kind of prison,

I have never lived in
Wo Chan

my mother watches her mother’s funeral footage again

By Wo Chan She closed the doors
and then the blinds
and then her face, midday.
Keith Wilson

Black Matters

By Keith Wilson shall i tell you, then, that we exist?
there came a light, blue and white careening,
the police like wailing angels
to bitter me.
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