Infinite Regress of War

By Myra Sklarew In the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,

“Baltimore Uproar” by Romare Bearden

By Reginald Harris Get off here. This is a story you've
been told: these streets before the trash,
the rats, the crack-heads nodding to ghost

By Eduardo C. Corral A girl asleep beneath a fishing net
Sandals the color of tangerines
Off the coast of Morocco

By Kathi Wolfe I'm in my seat,
averting my eyes,
those funhouse mirrors,

By Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped

By Joseph Ross Hammering on rocks
can break the hammerer's back
when stooped

By Truth Thomas Shayna reads the Word and takes
the story of that first miracle as
serious as unpaid electric bills in
winter

By Lisa L. Moore Word got out about the bad bill.
College students packed up their bikinis,
went back to Austin to tell those men why

By Jennifer Perrine Under the surface of this winter lake,
I can still hear him say you're on thin ice
now, my heel grabbed, dragged into the opaque

By Theresa Davis honey
you are not being judged
because your bones decided