Wendy Mnookin: In the Small Rotary
where Route 100 meets School Street,
two cows graze.
Robin Davidson: Mrs. Schmetterling Considers the Beautiful
When she closes her eyes, she sees the room’s ceiling
fill first with billowing shadows, then a pinpoint of
light that blooms into a blue-black shining, then
the brilliant blue of coronal plasma that could
be the widening eye of God.
Nina Kossman: Three Poems about a Head (Two)
If you cut off your right hand and bury it in the garden,
it will grow into a little daughter with wings instead of arms.
Michael Simms: Rumor of War | February 24, 2022 
I’ll say it again and say it differently
because the horror of war must never be forgotten.
The boy hid beneath the stairs
when the Good Guys came to kill him.
Video: Yusef Komunyakaa Reads “Facing It”
Yusef Komunyakaa reads his poem “Facing It” about seeing the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial wall in Washington, D.C. through his eyes as a war veteran and contemporary poet.
Louie Skipper: Every Guide
Even in death a man who sets out to find himself
has already lost his way.
Alison Luterman: She for whom I am named
left Russia at fifteen to follow her betrothed.
Good-bye, skinny chickens and fly-bitten cows,
synagogue leaning on one side, as if to dodge blows
from a Cossack’s boot
Norman Solomon: Bob Dylan and the Ukraine Crisis
I’ve learned to hate the Russians
All through my whole life
If another war comes
It’s them we must fight
T. R. Hummer: My Wife in Chemo
The house of healing is crystalline, clean
as the diagram of a carbon molecule drawn
With a laser beam on one facet of a diamond.
Terry Blackhawk: My Father Goes to Sunday School
What are you doing here?
an elder asked, a deacon perhaps, or prayer leader.
Mary Jane White: “For You” by Marina Tsvetaeva
For you, I dissolve a handful of
Burnt hair in the glass.
So you will not eat, not sing,
Not drink, not sleep.
Richard Hoffman: Summer Job
“The trouble with intellectuals,” Manny, my boss,
once told me, “is that they don’t know nothing
till they can explain it to themselves.
Jose Padua: Those Years That Went Down
daytime drunks
still gather,
no longer hidden by
the ornament
of night
Danielle DeTiberus: In the Middle of Fucking You, I Pause
Twenty years together and yet
You were new to me again.
