By Shauna Barbosa
I count gulls until they spasminto numbers, until I graspa number never uttered.
By Leila Chatti
He says he’s never really stoppedspeaking to God. Says it’s in his DNA, askingfor things.
If you had asked me, thirteen, what I wantedto be one day, I wouldn’t have said it.
Hidden in a dim stall as the muezzin calledall worshipers to prayer, I touched privatelythe indelible stain.
Christmas, flew home packaged like a gift. Beneath my jeans a childlike padding. Came to adore the wee god, his dolorous mother.
The summer after, a stormsplit the sky over Hergla and I wanted to be in it.
By Sara Eliza Johnson
When my body blew openthe shadow-glass cloudgalloped through me, glittered
The anemone of your dream bloomsinside the vacuum of space.In your pocket of black wind
By Javier Zamora
She says she lit a candle and placed it under my balls when I was bornbecause they were too big,
it’s procedure to inspect the ass of an immigrant kid
undress put this gown on the doctor will be here soon