In Texas,
They declared a heartbeat alone
enough life to preserve.
I watch my baby girl
Suspended in darkness,
her heart barely blipping at 120 bpm.
She has a tail, paddles for hands and stumps for feet,
two dark spots where eyes will be
and a spinal column.
No head, no brain, nowhere near human,
but a heartbeat pulsing through the womb
I waited my whole life to hear.
In Elizabeth City,
They declared a grown man,
not worth saving.
He had a heartbeat,
and 10 kids, and a spouse, and
four decades of HIStory.
And two hands on the wheel.
The thunder in his chest
pounding in the darkness
until
he was aborted
by people who promised to protect
and serve him.
No more waiting.…
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Today’s lunch break couldn’t come fast enough. Sheila unclipped the hand radio from her belt, placed it in the charging station and stepped out of the admin office. She swiped her punch card at the row of timeclocks across from the vending machines. Sheila returned the punch card into the plastic sleeve of the lanyard draped over her white silk button-up shirt. Bolted against the employee hallway wall, were six of the two-dozen time clocks in the Paradise Capital Hotel which had five-hundred and fifty-six employees. She removed her lanyard and tucked it into the jacket pocket of her Navy-blue pantsuit. The casino floor was slow as usual. Paradise Capital was a mid-size casino in Miami, Florida. The pit was nearly empty. Paradise Capital attracted a crowd of Floridians, snowbirds and elderly tourists who preferred digital slot machines over blackjack, craps, and roulette tables.…
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You came to us
with your cataracted mother –
matching duo in a stippled
vertical lattice of black and grey
after a thunderstorm
in a swollen sodden summer
Ears bigger than ghosts
big as wolves hearing the horizon
perched radar on a rail of a body
that has to fatten up to honor them
Rick you should see how he has
made the upside-down envy
gravity and how he asks questions
with a peek through laced leaves
He sleeps in a planted pot camouflaged
indigenous on our sun warmed patio
or in woolen knitted hollowed hole
He would have played with you
In a whirling game of fast
varsity gymnastics
he would have walked on your chest
and purred
In your last bed or your first
Pick up a stick with feathers
my brother, past the place
where the owl inhabits
night
He is a creature of freedom
as you are now, finally
from a boulder of debt and breathing
wait until she carves his face in a
pumpkin
when snow comes
falling with the last
mandarin maple
keep him safe
in those thickets
of cattails
– Roy Akiyamo…
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As we entered our friends’ garden, Irmgard and Alfred were ready for the walk Irmgard had promised.
Irmgard and Alfred had lived in London during the war, where Alfred manufactured accessories for clothing. As my father-in-law made all the uniforms for the Canadian armed forces, he became a customer of Alfred’s company. After the war — fearing that World War III might erupt — the Irmgard and Alfred emigrated to Canada, living in Montreal where they became friends with my in-laws. Once these fears subsided, they moved to Vence in the south of France. After Jane and I married, Irmgard and Alfred befriended us, calling us “the children”. Before we began living nearby, in Saint Jeannet, Jane and I would visit the Irmgard and Alfred once or twice a year.…
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My limbs are electric,
reaching, clinging, wanting
wanton for the press of
her foreign flesh.
As much as I had feared
my desire was a raw nerve,
feeling pleasure and pain
indistinguishable.
After,
our limbs twisted together in fraught knots,
exhausted.
Exhausted of the wait,
exhausted of the fight to stay apart,
magnets calling for each other
from opposite poles, finally
collapsed on each other.
Exhausted from the wicked curiosity
of being unknown to each other,
of hiding, not lying, but
not telling the truth.
And we are swiftly boated by sleep
that refuses to abstain any longer.…
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Today we elected Cameron. He’s sixteen. It wasn’t legal but a few months ago Congress got together and changed the laws so that he could run for office. And it was a landslide. He refused to do any of the debates. He’d just drop another video on his channel that’d get tens of millions of likes. The networks needed the viewing numbers so badly that they would just play his videos when the other candidates were finished speaking. Even the other candidates liked it. The conservative (what was his name?) was caught on a hot mic, and as they watched Cameron crush a dance to “Makeba” by Jain, he said that Cameron’s moves were “fresh as shit”.
On election night, Steve Kornacki didn’t even bother clicking on any of the states on his touchpad map.…
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Her dark wounded face was everywhere. During my years as a Catholic schoolgirl in the 1950s, statues and pictures of saints on “holy cards” were standard in church, school, and homes but of all these holy people, one stood above and apart. In the community of Polish immigrants in Amsterdam, New York, the scarred face of the Black Madonna of Czestochowa was most beloved, because she alone represented our people’s struggle for nationhood.
The Black Madonna painting is said to have been brought to Czestochowa, Poland, by a Hungarian prince, who entrusted her to a group of monks. The monks built a monastery where she still resides, and like many other Black Madonnas throughout the world, she performs the occasional miracle.
The black-robed nuns who were our teachers said her skin was black from years of exposure to candle smoke.…
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