Woman, 26, Remains Optimistic as Body Turns to Stone – Safiya Sinclair 


The fruits fall all December,
flesh pulled soft across each skull,
at dawn a feast for gingy-flies.

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Outside of Richmond, Virginia, Sunday – Deborah Slicer

It’s the kind of mid-January afternoon—
the sky as calm as an empty bed,
fields indulgent,
black Angus finally sitting down to chew—

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Paradise – Emilie Buchwald 

We were waiting for a train in the echoing underground.
I was thirteen. He was old, a family friend, a refugee from another century.
The Gestapo hammered at his front door with the order for his arrest

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Love – Rupert Brooke

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
Where that comes in that shall not go again;

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