Genre: Poetry

Amelia Díaz Ettinger

my stained fingers working the soil’s mercy/its gritty coolness a slight measure of delight/and hallowed quiet/for broken nails

Ana Fortuna

"We spill words on the street/afraid dreaming of vessels/but when we say goodbye/the gesture, like a wave,/draws houses on the pavement"

Cheryl Dumesnil

"The ones who/lashed plastic bottles to a grid of bamboo stalks/and christened it Hope."

Amelia Díaz Ettinger

"I want to see the depths/of my father’s heart,/the confession/of failed arteries,/the atrophy/of fate"

Roy Bentley

"if you're wondering, I come down on the side of loving him/bastard that he could be"

Judith Skillman

"Days and nights, moon and sun/storm and drought—all these happen/to the body as well"

Lance Dornan

"The meat on my plate is rare and bloody. My fork works its way into my thigh."

Sandra Kolankiewicz

"I understand about your silence/now, how you craved quiet when your empire collapsed"

Sandra Kolankiewicz

"You are grateful for my note, you say, and the/photograph of my mother the year you met her"

Karine Leno Ancellin

"Demeter was clearing the weed when Persephone/erred beyond the horizon."