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Luisa Muradyan
I hold him close and walk away from other mothers singing their own version of don't be afraid

journal

The Threepenny Review

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Vénus Khoury-Ghata (translated from the French by Marilyn Hacker)
it should have been beautiful and it was merely sad gardens departed this life more slowly than men

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Poetry London

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David Kirby
            I'm actually looking for another street when I turn into the Via Tornabuoni, named for the Tornabuoni family                     and specifically its patriarch, Giovanni, banker and patron of the arts in Florence . . .

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LSU Press

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Lucille Clifton
it was her iron, or one like hers, that smoothed the sheets the master poet slept on.

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BOA Editions

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Dimitri Reyes
On every counter and beside                   the entertainment center, space is claimed by little wings plucking harps.                   Trumpets leading                   an unknown charge of credit cards.

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Digging Press

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Michael Collier
Three in a group, then one coming from a distance to make four dividing into two scavenging pairs. They waddle like ducks, dibble like robins. This close to the earth they have nothing to say.

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University of Chicago Press

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Kendra Allen
                            Who saw the sticky tie itself                             To my navel My hair the color of damp sand now Because I made it that way

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Ecco

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CAConrad
my first meal after his death a decision to persist without him please do not attempt to command the common winds

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Wave Books

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Gary Jackson
Consider how it recalls the simplest movements. How it always shoots the right foot first. It never forgets where to hold tight the apex of a cursive G before rounding her sloping curve.

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University of New Mexico Press

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Oscar Oswald
Once it begins, the score is obvious. White vines with wildflowers spring along the fence, our center. Syntax folds, the ballot shrinks into a coin and flips . . .

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Nightboat Books

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