Reneé Salandy

“footprints across the sky—they gone too soon”

Carla M. Cherry

It’s autumn in the BX.

Yash Seyedbagheri

“golden light
shimmers among cathedral pines”

Carla M. Cherry

An elegy to Breonna Taylor, on the chasm between the life she deserved and the life that society felt legally obligated to disregard.

Nila Narain

A poet grapples with a loss of perspective. The center does not hold.

C. Adán Cabrera

“Lines written in Barcelona after a gay white man mocked me.”

Remember her legacy, and take action to defend it.

Moira Wood

A bike ride through New Orleans’ City Park inspires a reflection on the present, and on the past.

Emily Polson

Remember when we used to hold hands?

Dianne Cabelus Braley

In the middle of a pandemic, a registered nurse and her husband confront the rough terrain between social distancing and social mores.

We’re off until September 21, though we’re still accepting and reading new submissions!

Mark Seelos

“Xoe the dog is looking at me disapprovingly.”

Roxie Williams

We show up.
We don’t complain.
We do all we can to avoid death by plague.

Ashley Ward

“the apprehension that haunts me
is found in you becoming privy
to the recesses of my heart.”

Melissa Calderon-Rougié

“comfort always comes with a price tag”

Vic Nogay

“we pack and process death
into a bottle of ‘sad, shocked, scared...’”

Fasasi Abdulrosheed Oladipupo

“They set us on fire, and yet they call us brothers.”

Genevieve Murdick

“This hot-sounding social worker does breathing exercises with me over the phone. Secretly, I count this as ‘a date.’  I am exactly that lonely.”

Richard LeDue

“A bird flew into my living room window.
Too small to break the glass,
it had no choice
but to land after the crash,
quivering,
waiting to die”

Heather Hughes

“The six feet between us was impassable, and drowned out a lot of what we needed to express to each other.”