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PERSISTENT DESIGN by Nate Pritts

Wasps keep circling
the shutters, long stalks
of grass dangling
from thin back legs,
and when they crawl between the slats
into the small dark,
they bring their greeny materials
with them.

There is nothing here
you can’t leave.

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FIRST WINTER by Hala Alyan

Our bodies are urns full of rain,
spilling during the harvest. The elders
speak of clemency. The army marches on.

We watch them across the ocean,
speak their undead name in our sleep.

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TWO POEMS by Lee Sharkey

CIVILIZATION

Even in the most inhospitable circumstances there is always time for a cup of tea.
Say you live in a cup with a hole blasted in its side in a blasted landscape, by a blasted tree
and an empty barrel.

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STACK OF BRIGHTNESS by Rosalynde Vas Dias

What do you know
of the former

beloved/still beloved?
He lives in another

city or speaks
infrequently.

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The Smallest Man by Julie Brooks Barbour

creeps across the lines in my palm. He erects a house
with a tree in the front yard and a dog running the length
of the lawn. Yesterday he fashioned a weapon
from sharpened sticks and twine…

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