Because She Thinks She Is Going To Hell
By Theresa Davishoney
you are not being judged
because your bones decided
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Theresa Davishoney
you are not being judged
because your bones decided
By Amaranth BorsukFew things the hand wished language could
do, given up on dialect's downward spiral:
words so readily betray things they're meant
By Michelle Regalado DeatrickWhen I sweat in a Midwest January
and wish to God it was a hot flash but know
it's greenhouse gasses--read the news:
By Denise BergmanShe 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 Patricia MonaghanThey 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 Remica L. BinghamThe weight of my parents,
the dawn of them;
my grandmother's lackluster
By Emily K. BrightIt is nearly midnight and I'm
scrubbing at the grout.
The dishes, washed,
By Samiya BashirBrother I don't either understand this
skipscrapple world that is--these
slick bubble cars zip feverish down
By Beth CopelandWhat do the howling hounds hear that we can't?
The moon sharpens its sword on the Earth's stone.
Palm trees on the shores of the Tigris stand sentinel,
By Patricia MonaghanJust past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.