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By Rosemary Ferreira
Habichuelas bubbling on the stovetop. The kitchen door opens to our backyard. My father cuts out a piece of the campo and plants it here in Brooklyn. There are neighbors who knock on the door with a broom to let us know they’re selling pasteles. The train rumbles into a screech in the background, “This is Gates Avenue, the next stop is...”
By Janice Lobo Sapigao
we don’t know how to pay the bills on time
and we don’t know the password to your bank account
& in all of our languages I understand why you stacked
linens and face towels and rubber bands and plastic bags
in drawers and hallway closets
everything filled to the brim
By leilani portillo
when i say
the land is my
ancestor
believe me.
By Maricielo Ampudia Gutiérrez
With each finger, I pressed on black ink, and one by one placed them on the transmitting screen. Following instruction, I rolled each finger, left to right, and slow—every quarter inch of skin recorded. On the display, perfect fingerprints glowing.
By Tarik Dobbs
Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water…
For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank.
By Noor Ibn Najam
to become earth’s sugar, to be a seedless
orange offered. to want fruit
to unwind from the concept of sex
By Darius Simpson
dangerously good at freeze tag, like ghost good
drenched in red puddles, but on his way
down by the gutter river
By Azura Tyabji
If the meaning of the prayer was not passed down to you,
find it through holier means than translation.
Cling to the rhythm instead.
By Kyle Dargan
“Man-law” I first violate at age ten—
my wandering fingers not appeased by picking
through my cousin’s video
game cartridges, Sports Illustrateds.
By Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
I wish you swift wind.
I wish you a changed phone number
that stays changed.