George Rapp 4th of July
By G. C. WALDREP
Bids slowly wish.
With rose hips bee
balm with honey.
Public Fishing Dock
By RALPH BURNS
We had to leave because someone saw my
father set his bottle down. Because
of something in us we leaned into one another
Breakfast of Champions
By TINA CANE
I woke up in a panic this morning thinking what if my love language
is granola? I found a quiz online but was too chicken to take it having had
Russian bots once read my face and place me alongside a woman holding a mango
or some bullshit in Gaugin
nothing exotic for me today
To My IUD
By MADELEINE MORI
I’m halfway home to Bed-Stuy
when I feel the cervical cramp.
I was told they’d be getting worse
A Letter to Leena
By MARY JO SALTER
I came when you were born,
but soon the flying stopped.
By the time I came again,
we drove in private cars
Questions for the Night I Said I Love You
By ALDO AMPARÁN
Is he a saguaro burning in the desert’s shadow—or a sidewinder’s tracks on sand—
Have I left footprints in the snow of his dreaming—
Drop Your Coins From The Skyscraper of Love
By MELISSA STUDDARD
And if you have no coins or skyscraper,
then parachute from your mind into blossom,
From Lockdown Garden
By ARVIND KRISHNA MEHROTRA
the bitter melon’s taken over
the mulberry, dusting it
By MARK KYUNGSOO BIAS
Even if the sky collapses, there will be a hole in it.
Our cat died before the towers fell.
Letter to Emily Brontë
By JANE SATTERFIELD
I’m writing this from lockdown on a day
when the dogwood throws out its dose
of darker pink. The schoolyard