The nature of loss 
(Audrey Molloy)

Widow-makers, they call your boughs that plunge                    without warning, crush soft bodies beneath.  Yet I know you are not death but grief’s balled fist come down.  For seven years I decompose below your …

Yo Soy Mexico City
(Atreyee Gupta)

        Yo soy poderosa, yo soy abultado — El Monstruo         I beat with the syncopated rhythm of twenty-five million hearts criss-crossing my sinking calles         Me quema con potencial bajo del decaimiento …