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Poems
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NIGHT COMMUNION
We met at the revolving hotel door. You’d shaved
Tara Skurtu
Thetis
We see her through her element, not
Ricardo Pau-Llosa
SUNDAY LUNCH AT MOM’S COUSIN DINNIE’S: JUNE 1969 | “ELEGANT,” SHE SAID
I hadn't yet recovered from a concussive first year teaching ninth-grade English
Wendy Barker
Painting
all things look as if
André du Bouchet
Apologetics
A host of angels or a compass of cherubim
Erika Meitner
Mindfulness Training in La Jolla
That summer of Pokémon-go,
Carol Moldaw
The Suicide’s Wife
inhabits an invisible island
Amy Gerstler
Study: Old Watercolor and Joe
I bought an old watercolor in a primitives shop and brought it home to my in-laws’ on summer vacation.
Sandra McPherson
Mari Küla and Mari Meli
Manuela Colipe Benavente breathes in the sun so that she can sleep.
Jaime Luis Huenún
The Third Visitor
The Third Visitor understands
Dick Allen
Nesting & a triptych
At my parents’ house nothing is in boxes, nothing is packed.
Katie Moritz
Family Way
In my family, when any one of the women of my grandmother’s generation dreamt of fish she would get on the phone to
Sean Hill
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