She used to work at an ice-cream shop. Let each flavor that came through the store touch her tongue. Savored it and told her mom matter-of-factly that eating ice cream was part of her job. Then, the hot air of a bathroom. Arms against the wall. Arms against the floor. A drop of his sweat down her throat.
what we talk about when we talk out our mouths by deziree a. brown
vernacular by Cantrice Janelle Penn
Minister Puerto Rico preaches to Caribbean after Hurricane Irma by Ana Portnoy
Are The Clouds Really Moving by Ines Rivera Prosdocimi
Are the clouds really moving, Tía, / if a man hangs in Pepin Park / if laws render brothers and sisters / stateless? You said: Faith, Always. / I want to have faith / the South and DR are not fingers / from the same hand, / not a father and son stitching borders / of sugar and blood / at the cost of men like Tulile / hanging in Ercilia Pepin Park.