Hold
By Gowri Koneswaranwe're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
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Ma Mere n’a Jamais eu des ailes (My momma never had wings)
By Pages MatamMa Mere n'a Jamais eu des ailes
My momma never had wings
But she could tap dance on hurricanes
American Herstory
By celeste doaksTell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
The Sign
By Jonathan B. Tuckerpardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
How to write a poem, according to Souha Bechara
By Zein El-AmineSit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
Stewing
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
Rhinos Got No Luck
By Renée Ellen OlanderYesterday, a ten-year old newcomer to a zoo
Fought her new mate, broke
Out of her cage, and galumphed
Rosary for my Brace
By Sheila BlackThe brace was metal, and it fastened around the ankles.
Outside in the street there was the beggar with elephantiasis; there was
the leper, the neighbor with eyes milky blind,
factory work: made in china.
By Meg EdenI look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way