Search Results • Categories:
By antmen pimentel mendoza
The memory palace has an all gender bathroom
and I’m not the middle figure in the half-skirt,
half-pants chimera outfit, but I do like to piss
in a single-stall situation. On the couch
is the heavy blanket that kept me Catholic. Going
up the stairs is an act of poise and in the kitchen
is a lemon, wedged and pledged. Under the bed
is the laser printed felt, the earrings I drew
onto my lobes and my cheeks flush, burning.
By Lara Atallah
after Lebanon, a country with one of the worst economic crises since the nineteenth century
the price of bread has gone up again. throngs of cars
slouch towards shuttering gas stations. the currency, a farce
with each swing of the gavel, numbers
soar. fifty thousand pounds by day’s end,
what’s another ten thousand? or a hundred thousand?
a hundred and forty thousand pounds to the dollar?
By Sumita Chakraborty
We may try to change the shape of your body, or the color of your skin,
or the kinds of sounds that your mouths make, to match how we think you should.
By mónica teresa ortiz
I wake up sleepless inside a room overlooking giants//mist peeling over olive trees//clouds of pleasure
By Juan J. Morales
Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
By Janlori Goldman
His face stared out into the living room
of my grandparents’ walk-up on E. 13th.
After they died my father hung him
By Deborah A. Miranda
The people you cannot treat as people
Whose backs bent over your fields, your kitchens, your cattle, your children
We whose hands harvested the food we planted and cultivated for your mouth, your belly.
By Jennifer Foerster
The war appeared to be coming to an end.
The no-name people not yet taken
left their crops for summer’s drought.
By Laura Tohe
My body
holds
stones
By Tamiko Beyer
Dear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks
soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot