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Tolu Agbelusi
each night a diluted memory infiltrates my dreams—you catapult me to heaven on the slat of a swing, shine my wrists with oil from the oranges in mum’s garden

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wildness

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James Richardson
It’s not so common, in this practical century, for lovers to pine away, and as our climate warms, pines are retreating higher, but late as it is, anyone sleepless will hear the sound of the wind thinning through pines as pained.

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Copper Canyon Press

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Heather Green
In the sculpture, Aeneas wore a helmet, held his son’s hand, and carried his thin father, weathered and wild-eyed, but alive. My father was bearded and wild-eyed before he died.

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Bennington Review

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Jose Hernandez Diaz
Sometimes I wish my Spanish were better, Like to the point where I could speak it without Having to think about it. I can get by, trust me, But it’s broken. Like that trendy restaurant downtown: Broken Spanish.

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Colorado Review

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Pet

Rose McLarney
How long I watched, how I loved to watch, and how I tried to make him a little home. But what is wanted wants to leg it elsewhere, no matter.

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Penguin Books

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Khadijah Queen
I wish I’d learned to take better care As if this world tried to love me A body I used up on hard ground, flowsy & sop-studded, misplacing words I keep to settle for pain

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Tin House

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Kęstutis Navakas (translated from the Lithuanian by Rimas Uzgiris)
don’t read this text who knows what it will open or close in you so read what until now for so many years you read that will preserve you

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The Paris Review

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Srikanth Reddy

With a wave of his hand, the card turns over once more, only now it is the Justice Card—a child's transitional object in need of mending, an oil well burning on the horizon, a scale model of the cooling universe.

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Wave Books

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Emily Bludworth de Barrios
What was it like to live inside that economy that pressed you into a flattened portion of a person?     It wasn't so dramatic, we were okay My childhood is a museum display of the suburbs in the 1990s

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Sixth Finch

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Cole Swensen
Landscape of evening                                                         shadowing the park Landscape of ventriloquist                                                         in nearby pavilion, the land itself a voice

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Nightboat Books

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