Hala Alyan
It's beautiful to speak for her; she's dead. I sit in the scalding bath. I like to change my skin. This is my sanity: salt and bubbles. To outlive is to become mockingbird: She was, she was.
from the journal Southern Humanities Review
Ginny Threefoot
When my ancestors began the work of me, I was already old. I was only a child, I swam as an eel, I tallied on fingers, measuring everything.
Alina Stefanescu
I meet the birds on their terrain, the gray of. Chimney swifts smudged, sifted from clouds like feathered cinders, all is blurred or wisps of smoke, an attendance.

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