A man sings for pesos,/on the corner, his hand/ swarmed by a song of bees
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Precious Cargo by Felicia Zamora
A honey bee knows the outcome of haste and yet, she is here, in the light. She lives fully, either always in fear of, or without fear of, death attached to her actions.
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Limes by Alexander Lumans
He sticks his hand in his pocket for a brush but pulls out melted gray taffy instead. He thinks, can only think, of that painted tree in the rain.
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Two Poems by Rita Mae Reese
I will give him this bird trapped in a doorway,
a mad heart in feathers and pulsing eyes.
Dot by Lia Purpura
Empurpled, if caught in the gloaming, before the beam sharpens against true night and reddens the dot into super clarity.
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Mockingbird by Lia Purpura
Plain bird whose one song is all songs. / Who accompanied me once / while I waited and waited and no call came / and who, for god's sake, will not stop singing now.
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Of Eagles, Goats, and Space Men by Patrick Madden
Which is to say that you can essay about anything, find some small hook in the overlooked or takenforgranted.
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Vertebrae by Jess Masterton
Her bones had been bleached, stripped of all muscles and tendons, and you called me to your side as though I were your own.
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The Madrid Conversations by Normando Hernàndez Gonzalez with Adam Braver and Molly Gessford, Translated By Cynthia Guardado
The simple act of having your rights to liberty and expression, I would say. The simple act of not being scared to say what you are thinking.
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Transmissions from the Baby Monitor by Sarah Gerkensmeyer
“You tell us death, and you tell us pain, and you tell us there are good things, too.”
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Two Poems by Marilyn Nelson
In petticoats, ribbons, and ostrich plumes,
with watch chains, snuff boxes, and monocles,
we were enchanted individuals
last night, cinderellas without our brooms.
Fatality on the Tracks by Patrick Hicks
Molten steel fills my ribcage,
my teeth are barbed-wire,
but the killer bees I want to spit
are stuck on the flypaper of my tongue.
Fairy Tale by Sharmila Voorakkara
“The children stare into space. No one here knows what too much means.”
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Geography by Tita Ramirez
None of this was ever a problem before, but sitting there looking at that pee stick, it hit me: if I was going to have to explain the world to someone else, it was a huge problem. I had nine months to learn everything. More like eight, really.
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Wolf Biter by Sarah Viren
When our habits deform our bodies, we can’t hide the proof of what we do.
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High On Dopamine He Wants You Back by Christine Butterworth-McDermott
So you loved men who combusted, / spontaneously gave yourself to the flammable, / stripped yourself bare / for their ovens, splayed yourself for their driptorches.
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The Night’s Not Finished, but It’s Leaning Against the Wall by Taylor Collier
All/ day you’ve been plunking rusted metal / into your purse, and I never stopped to / ask what you really wanted
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First Story by Sarah Gambito
"What do you say to someone who has been gone for so long."
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Delta by Dionne Irving
We didn’t have friends on board. We didn’t have friends of friends on board. And we hadn’t ever even been to Miami, or to Brazil. So we went about our day. We made coffee.
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Two Poems by Karen An-hwei Lee
Angelenos call the phenomenon of swarming water bees
a congregation as in a church