Manistee Lights

By Samiya Bashir Brother I don't either understand this
skipscrapple world that is--these
slick bubble cars zip feverish down

Loss is an art, traversing one world to the next

By Purvi Shah The mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling

By Nahshon Cook Then he explained
how the Buddha
instructed us
to reflect on the body

By Rashida James-Saadiya we scatter
dodge words that rip into flesh
hide from clenched fist

By Carly Sachs Where does memory go?
Our windows looking out on the bay,
my wet clothes hanging on the antlers

By Jericho Brown Not the palm, not the pear tree
Switch, not the broomstick,
Nor the closet extension
Cord, not his braided belt, but God

By Philip Metres In the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis

By Cornelius Eady A warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.

By Martín Espada In the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain