Silent Night, by Mary Liza Hartong
Winter was still holding onto spring like a child who refuses to leave her blanket at home.
Thirteen, by Rebecca Foust
I was thirteen, and there was a boy’s mouth / where my legs met.
by Roy Bentley
When Dave Wheeler fielded the hard one-hopper / to short, he fired the ball to Melvin White
by Jill Evans
In the cool morning, bright-hot now from his bath, / my child’s child leans into my lap
by Katie Tunning
I’m sorry for saying the heat death of the universe / when you asked what comforted me most
by Maureen Simons
They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot. Two little girls, hand in hand, walked soundlessly up Nora’s driveway.
by Tommy Dean
I promised I wouldn’t follow, that I’d have to stay alive, because the people would demand a witness.
by Emily Bornstein
Don’t tell me there isn’t something pretty about you / (don’t tell me you don’t know it).
by Lynn McGee
I cradle him, big kid curled like an infant, water rocking, / chlorine staunching his vivid knees, belly swollen, / legs blue.
by Wendy Russ
Our message to Black writers: We want to hear your voice. We see you, we know you have things to say, and we want to see submissions from you. Please give us a chance to lift you up. We will actively recruit writers we see out on the internet. If you don’t come to us, we will come to you.
by Kelly Flynn
Every time I see my father, he asks me if I have lost weight. He has done this since I was a child.
by Andrew Hemmert
If the places you go become you, / you must account for the drive-through / liquor store housed in the old carwash.