Semblance, by Olaitan Humble

in the beginning, everything shape-shifts into grace,           into harmony. all the prayers made on my bodybecame roses sprouting on my fingertips, on my palms.            you see, my twin told this story first. before everythingtransformed into doom—but in this poem, there is no grief           at all, just an illusion of grievances. sometimes, i wonder what …

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In the Storm, a Country, by Omodero David Oghenekaro

                                  After the killing of cows and herdsman in Enugu Prelude: [In the storm / the brief branches of lightning / stretch like the jagged edges / of a torn map / over a country / the storm thickens into night / the night fizzles into day / the day blossoms into tomorrow.] Somewhere, sprawled on …

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I Hold Ghosts in My Hands, by Catheryne Gagnon

the same way I hold wounded things,the bird with the clipped wing,the dazed moth,scalded in search of light—I run my hands on fraying walls,curled fingers like a handle to clasp;ghosts, I findare always feeling through the darkthey fold into embraces,all deadweight and dragging,like they’ve forgotten how to be held. Catheryne Gagnon lives in Tiohtià ke/Montreal …

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Driving in Lake County, Illinois, by Morgan L. Ventura

In fields corn is blooming, embers burning, gilded sea of spun glass. My father points out            the car windowto rattle off a folktale or maybe urban legend about haunted crops, vengeful farmers,            and our own relativeswho came over to find nothing after leaving nothing. The radio cuts out. The Midwest sits            between transmission zones,memory and …

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