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Susan Eisenberg

As I Pay Forty Dollars

By Susan Eisenberg for my asthma inhaler that
last year cost fifteen
I pause for the mom
Purvi Shah

Saraswati praises your name even when you have no choice

By Purvi Shah You had a name no one
could hold between their
teeth. So they pronounced
Fred Joiner

Currency

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

I have never lived in
Craig Santos Perez

Spam’s Carbon Footprint

By Craig Santos Perez Craig Santos Perez performs the poem "Spam's Carbon Footprint" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Jeanann Verlee

Grease & Salt

By Jeanann Verlee I finish a small hot plate of grease & salt, & push the scraped-clean plate across the counter for someone else to scrub / this, I say I have paid for but it doesn't fit
Allison Pitinii Davis

THE MOTEL CLERK’S SON DRIVES OUT TO CHECK ON BUSINESS, 1977

By Allison Pitinii Davis Before him, stickers fade across the bumper:
LAST ONE OUT OF TOWN, TURN OFF THE LIGHTS.
The last employer in Youngstown is the weather:
the truck behind him plows grey snow to the roadside
Marcos L. Martínez

2001 Mill Road, Alexandria, VA

By Marcos L. Martínez There are immeasurable ways to count days: on the median the sunflower tracks UV streams: east to west then sleep; an acorn gets weeded out of the common area ‘til another live oak drobs a bomb then sprouts till, yanked away again;
Pamela Alexander

Makers

By Pamela Alexander We didn’t waste them. We used the trees
to build, to burn. Some jungles
got in our way, and animals, especially bears.
Dawn Lundy Martin

The American middle class ...

By Dawn Lundy Martin The American middle class is screwed again but they don’t know it.
Politics is a gleaming nowhere. Žižek fantasizes about Capitalism’s
inevitable end.
Elexia Alleyne

The Love for My Culture

By Elexia Alleyne Maybe it’s the Spanish running through my veins
That’s the only way I know how to explain it
Maybe it’s the r’s rrrolling off my tongue
See,
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