Thanks

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

Infinite Regress of War

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

By Jacob Rakovan The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.

By Rachel M. Simon the name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill

By Kamilah Aisha Moon Huge dashes in the sand, two or three
times a year they swim like words
in a sentence toward the period

By Cathy Linh Che I see my mother at thirteen
in a village so small,
it's never given a name.

By Zohra Saed Behave or the sleeping Alexander will reclaim your lungs.
Kandahar -
Was once a cube of sugar