The Iraqi Nights, Section 7
By Dunya MikhailIn Iraq,
after a thousand and one nights,
someone will talk to someone else.
Markets will open
for regular customers.
Search Results
Leaving My Childhood Home
By Zeina AzzamOn our last day in Beirut
with my ten years packed in a suitcase,
my best friend asked for a keepsake.
I found a little tin box
Self Portrait with NeoNazi Demonstration
By Lauren K. AlleyneJust like that the day is black
and blue, bruised with hate.
Just like that my skin, black
as fine leather stretches so tight
13 Hours in the Future
By Caits MeissnerI am 13 hours in the future & it is night / the rain is holding her breath
my friend, isn’t Penang opening to us! / a lotus unveiling a carnival
the paper lanterns are skirts / or balls pushed along by tiger’s nose
our smoke is a canon / dare devil on its way to an unnamed star
america
By Fatimah Asgharam I not your baby?
brown & not allowed
my own language?
my teeth pulled
from THE BLACK MARIA
By Aracelis GirmayBeloved, to
day you eat,
today you bathe, today
you laugh
For Brown Girls
By Katy Richeymust be tight
spiral wound
corset of rope
be body and
undertaker be
For Margaret Garner (28 days free until)
By Dominique ChristinaWhen the sun is pitiless
When the girl is a gust of get out fast
When the boys are forced to mingle with the forest
When the baby, still nursing leaves her mother
what else
By Tanya OlsonWhat else should I want. But to
be a boy. A boy. At his mother’s hip.
A boy between. His father
and the plow. A boy to remain.
What else.
Race/Race
By Martha Collinsstock strain family line
breed blood skin shape
of the head of the pack