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Dujie Tahat

The Way As Promised Has Mile Markers To Guide Us

By Dujie Tahat Pops bought a ‘78 Pontiac,
a firebird-stamped gold bar
on wheels, spontaneously,
after a conversation with
an aunt’s friend—so it went.
Gauri Awasthi

Back Home

By Gauri Awasthi my friend is dying of an invisible darkness
it’s either depression or loneliness or plain facts:
a) Her cancer-smitten grandpa wants her to marry
b) We think she’s queer, but she can’t be sure
c) She has only two reasons to live and one of them
happens to be me.
Tuhin Das

New Exile Poems

By Tuhin Das 1.
I am a writer,
the light burns late
into the night in my room.
Ladan Osman

Silhouette

By Ladan Osman I enter: carpet, curtains,
large, framed pictures of robed white men,
a glassy glare over a forehead, below the voice box,
students in bland shades.
I don’t belong, the luxury of thinking,
the wealth of talking about thought,
privilege of ease among important people.
féi hernandez

Eohippus

By féi hernandez Simultaneously I am
alone and crowded, this…
the pulsing wound of being extinct,

whole
enough for a morning forage,
yet scant for the onlookers

of lineage,
of nation,
myths in the mulberry tree.
Aliah Lavonne Tigh

Body Under Another’s Tradition

By Aliah Lavonne Tigh Everyone in Anatomy pairs up,
receives a small baby pig.
The scalpel shines like water or a mirror—if you look, you see
yourself: gloved hand pushing a blade to open
the other animal’s chest. Someone drops
a knife, shouts,
Clean it up. This is how we learn to
dissect a body.
A.D. Lauren-Abunassar

What the Fish Say / Over There

By A.D. Lauren-Abunassar My godson wanted to go look at fish but I told him, today, beauty is canceled. We cried. I felt bad. I counted the unbeautiful like broken ribs. Shrapnel in the olive tree. Child-sized tourniquet. Saint Porphyrius’ watching and weeping. My father phones to tell me they’re down to vinegar; they pour into open wounds.
Ghinwa Jawhari

the butcher

By Ghinwa Jawhari who loved my mother owned a shop on almira street & hung
among the glamorous posters of arabic singers, a black-and-white
photograph of muhammad al-durrah’s murder.
Jose Hernandez Diaz

Ode to My Older Sister, Letty, for Being the First in the Family to Go to College

By Jose Hernandez Diaz I’m not sure if you knew it at the time, but you showed us, your younger siblings,
A great example. Maybe you were just happy going away to college,

Away from the responsibilities of watching over younger siblings all the time,
But I always remembered having pride when I’d tell people my sister

Is an English major and even more so when you became a teacher.
Sarah Audsley

Homegoing

By Sarah Audsley You will return to the temple, swept clean,
tea sprouting in rows, clappers of bells ringing out
as incense burn at the foot of the golden Buddha.
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