I’ve been dreaming about / Africa and summer, / and clothes that stick to my skin. / You and me, / we still feel like a fever dream. […]
TagPoetry
She Doesn’t Look Herself
My grandpa didn’t live past seven / and my grandmother didn’t, either, / so I don’t believe
in that pseudoscience anymore. / “Cells die and are replaced every seven years” / feels a lot like a way / to diminish death. […]
an ode to the world
the girl with the black rimmed glasses and red leather skirt waves at me. it is a ritual done every friday at approximately nine forty-five in the morning when the children have filled their cubby holes and business men with pinstripe suits have been seated […]
Self-Portrait as a Bleaching Cream
I am the apartheid in a tube.
minting money off your reservoir of melanin, blithe bleach like bullets until you slow-bleed brown.
Or quieter – like a virus
infecting Indian society’s opinion until they believe they are hostages of their own skin. […]
“Civil Disobedience” By Sagorika Haque
in meek tribute to those martyred for সত্য, স্বাধীনতা, এবং মুক্ত মন; truth, liberty, and the free mind […]
“Mingus Mingus” By Francois Peloquin
The man leading
the blonde through the bar
by the small of her back,
the one humming
Paper Moon soft in her left ear,
he’s a madman […]
“Sappho” By Jaime Silverthorn
Sappho, under your coarse feet / the pricking splinters bite […]
when my father says “watch your waistline” By A.K. Shakour
when my father says “watch your waistline” / i listen. / […]
“Invertebrate” By Jacqueline Chan
The word is invertebrate – / spineless, columnless, boneless / creature bound by shell […]
“Tsundoku” By Leo Yamanaka-Leclerc
My grandmother slept / in an alcove in her living room wall, / early-century façade solidified amidst the war […]
“The St. Leon Wind Farm” By Alex Day
We pulled off the highway / because I didn’t know how to turn / the windshield wipers on in my grandpa’s truck[…]
“An Acknowledgement” By Jake Clark
What you don’t know doesn’t hurt you / But what you won’t know always will […]