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On History
His father’s boss was a Millerite—
Wayne Miller
Spam Risk
It was always a risk.
Carol Muske-Dukes
Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up | Shall we praise the girls who will not come down | It’s about water that didn’t lose its shine
Inside the guts of fresh fish, just hauled up
Aleksey Porvin
For D, reading poems
When I was a kid, only a flu could buy me
Jane Zwart
In God’s Intestine and Goner
The husband, who has accepted Buddhist precepts,
Diane K. Martin
KRVAVÝ KOLENO
Why does the line end sooner than the page?
Sylva Fischerová
Husband-Watching Height
That’s my fear, turning to stone.
Patricia Clark
Elegy for a Landscaper
The holes we find scraped out at the edge
Brendan Galvin
Amaryllis
Like the bell of an old Victrola,
Megan Marshall
Seven Minutes with Afaa Weaver and Nancy Mitchell
Were it not for his silver hair
Afaa Michael Weaver
I open the windows.
What I wanted
Jane Hirshfield
On Contemplating a Sheep’s Skull
Skull aged so much in rain and heat,
John Kinsella
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