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By Denise Bergman
She is a neighbor a building away, we talk weather and potholes, exchange
names Mary same as her daughter or is she Marissa or Maria I was distracted
her nephew was chewing the leg of his doll and the day was disappearing before
By Richard Blanco
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
By Sami Miranda
Please
(this is what my mama taught me to say
before I ask for anything)
By Kenji Liu
Sharp tenure of boots in this callow country
grown from open skulls. A raw harvest of bullet casings
arranged in a perfect ring around you,
By Patricia Monaghan
They were always taught that all guns were loaded.
It was a way, he said, to keep them safe.
Don't you notice, he said, how people get shot
By Pam Uschuk
If we shoot past one another
like asteroids on a collision course with Mars,
our tongues acidic with accusations
By Ruth Forman
why so afraid to stand up?
someone will tell you
sit down?
By Dan Vera
This is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.
By Jacob Rakovan
The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.
By Melissa Tuckey
A roadside bomb is planted in every chest
I was a pea sized fist in the dirt of a man
who had half your brains