By Kristal Peace (This poem contains domestic abuse.) My mother holdsMy hand as we navigateThe city’s streets during rush hour,The song of sirens escorting us home.She holds the grocery bagThat yanks her toward dinner. She holdsThe sharp words my fatherFlings at her when she thinksThe day is going well. She…
by Ree Davis I seize the rooster from his perch above the hens. They ruffle against the side of the coop and fill in around my skirts as I carry their cockerel outside. He fights against the fingers I wrap beneath the pointed feathers of his neck to hold back…
