Dressing Down

By Kamilah Aisha Moon When you're gay in Dixie,
you're a clown of a desperate circus.
Sometimes the only way to be like daddy

All the Trees of the Field Shall Clap Their Hands

By Eduardo C. Corral Are the knees & elbows
the first knots
the dead untie?

By Franny Choi How'd you get so slice?
Razor pinch all flat-like? All puff
& sting? What's your allergy?

By Natalie Diaz In the Kashmir mountains,
my brother shot many men,
blew skulls from brown skins,

By Yusef Komunyakaa Thanks for the tree
between me & a sniper's bullet.
I don't know what made the grass

By Naomi Ayala Two blocks away
where yellow cabs
zip by without stopping

By Myra Sklarew In the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,

By Reginald Harris Get off here. This is a story you've
been told: these streets before the trash,
the rats, the crack-heads nodding to ghost

By Eduardo C. Corral A girl asleep beneath a fishing net
Sandals the color of tangerines
Off the coast of Morocco

By Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped