The Fallen Angel

by Maurya Simon: One more tithe to the altar of seductions: / a rose tattoo on her rotund rump, and for that / she’s lifted her dress, tucks a round of bills / into her sequinned G-string, her lips pursed.

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Billions Served

by Timothy Liu: A cow without an eye? Not an uncommon sight / in stockyards run by the stocks we hold—cancer / eating out her eye, half of her face, and part / of her skull and brain. Better to have died

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by Jane Hirshfield: They took the woman / and tied to one arm a child / to the other arm a child / to one leg a child / to the other leg a child— / you also read this in the paper—

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Knot Me

by Susan Wheeler: after H.C. Westermann. The reddish glow is jacked. Ole Cliff he found / the yard out back, and it sure got the roses bright.

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Oh Nigeria!

by E. Ethelbert Miller: / it’s wednesday and it’s lunchtime / and i’m waiting for omar to / come around the corner with a bag / of sweet things and other goodies

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The Miscarriage

by Stanley Moss: You had almost no time, you were something / not quite penciled in, you were more than darkness / that is shaped by its being and its distance from light. / (To give birth in Spanish is to give to light.)

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by Kim Addonizio: A man walks into a bar. You think that’s some kind of joke? / Actually he runs in, to get out of the freezing weather. / Who cares, you say. Nobody you know.

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Three Poems

I. In New Jersey, a couple pulled a man from his car, shot him, and locked him in a box to die. They’d had a plan, but their plan fell through. They were captured, and the woman claimed she’d been forced; she had never wanted to do it. When she testified against her husband, someone

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Letter of Recommendation

by Elaine Equi Please say something really good, no, great about yourself. I would but I am watching a porno movie and have no time to write. The woman astride the man is a ghost and the fact that she’s dead makes it seem more artistic. I’m afraid I’ll be busy for months. You know

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