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Li-Young Lee
Because my father walked the earth with a grave, determined rhythm, my shoulders ached from his gaze. Because my father's shoulders ached from the pulling of oars, my life now moves with a powerful back-and-forth rhythm . . .

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BOA Editions

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Ahlam Bsharat (translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah)
We had a cow, Obeidah the cow. She had big wide eyes but the whole herd had big wide eyes. She was dappled but the rest of them were dappled.

journal

The Baffler

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Melissa Broder
The sky told me nothing about myself The stars told me nothing about myself Jupiter gave me zero Except that I am dust

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Tin House

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Tishani Doshi
The stormtroopers of my country love their wives but are okay to burn what needs to be burned for the good of the republic often doing so in brown pleated shorts and cute black hats with sticks

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Copper Canyon Press

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Giovanni Pascoli (translated from the Italian by Geoffrey Brock)
Three grapes, Giacinto, grow upon these vines: The first is pleasure, and is clear as air; the next is sweet amnesia. Drink their wines,                                       yes—but stop there . . .

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World Poetry Books

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Nava EtShalom
I woke up from marrying my father; the window let in a little streeplamp shine. None of us knew what time it was. The streetlamp thought three. The boy thought morning, and started to wake.

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Carnegie Mellon University Press

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Marjorie Welish
                                    Itself Sedentary in another language is language as such           Whether or not we can read it, sought          Because home. . .

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Coffee House Press

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Brigit Pegeen Kelly
Strange about the kills we get without intending them. Because we are pointed in the direction of something. Because we are distracted at just the right moment, or the wrong.

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BOA Editions

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Shuri Kido (translated from the Japanese by Tomoyuki Endo & Forrest Gander)
A long slope. The sun dipped, and finally sank. No matter how long I walked, I stayed in "the middle of the road." The name torn into pieces. Just keeping on, climbing higher and higher I'd completely forgotten the name.

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Harvard Review

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Peter Filkins
Shy panzer of the swamp, atavistic in your haughty calm, you blink at us encapsulated in our swanky Prius . . .

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Johns Hopkins University Press

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