THE NINE
By Tara HardyThey call it dissociation.
I call it THE NINE (children)
who live inside me.
Each of them encased
in amber, frozen in a mosquito-pose
Search Results
Waiting for a Greyhound Bus at the Los Angeles Station
By Cynthia GuardadoA black woman stands with two toddlers hanging off her hips.
Her balance is perfect as she pushes her luggage with one leg,
the boys curl into her shoulders unaware of how
they all slide forward. I offer her my help. Her face is serious
When I Kiss You, A Casket Opens
By beyza ozerthis is not terrorism
this is toxic masculinity
made in the USA
when my mother hears
about orlando
she doesn't look at me
The Child Formerly Known As _________
By Cameron Awkward-Richis what your father calls you now. Yes, you know
your father loves you
but each time he will not name you
you feel a hole
Sexton Nights
By Majda GamaI wanted to be Her Kind, to go out a hennaed hand-
maiden, sneak across the rooftops of Jeddah dome-by-dome,
until I reached the coastline of the eternal bride.
January 20, 2017
By Tonee Mae MollWe’re looking for that old revolutionary road again
a poet said we’d meet where the grass grows uphill.
I couldn’t think of a better way to describe America
torch in one hand, scrolling through her smart phone with the other
philosophically immune
By Evie Shockleycan i deduce the nature of humanity from the relationship of american and multinational pharmaceutical corporations to african women with hiv?
Final Dispatch from Laos
By Mai Der VangConcerning our hollow breasts,
Lice factions multiplying in our hair.
Concerning our unused stomachs,
Molars waiting to chew, taste buds
Faux Feminism
By Lauren (Lo) Maytwitter feminists will scream
my brown eyes be beautiful
while labeling the grey and green “exotic”
love my “black girl afro” when it's plucked and fluffy
Commodity
By Jeanann VerleeIn a humble, godless house
you moved through youth like any girl.
Dolls & other toys, yours,
in parts.