Poetry

Eileen McCluskey “You can help them with their homework…You can put them down for a nap… and you can put them on a plane to Brazil. You can bring them back to me.”— Mother facing deportation, Boston Globe, July 2, 2025 You can call my husband whenICE grabs me in the courthouse.You can take a… Continue reading

Meghan Woodward It all culminatesin this,masked facesgrabbing brownpeoplebecause theydo jobswe wantbut won’t ever do;Then magically,wands in thewind,industries getexceptionsbecausecapitalism Trumpshumanity—greed always wins Meghan Woodward is a poet and app developer residing in Tacoma, Washington, where she spends her time advocating for victims of sexual and domestic violence and loving on her dog and cat. This poem… Continue reading

Chad Parenteau You can always walk away.You can leave your car behind,hand him the chain, your fingerclutching the key to your housein good faith. You don’t wantanything real added to yourfabricated record. You don’thave to use your feet to runaway. Get on your knees andlook to his pelvis to guidethe way home or to the… Continue reading

Michelle DeRose Five-dollar breakfast on a plastic tray.A dark-eyed family slipsinto the booth behind, whispersin Spanish, mutes even the crinklesunwrapping their muffins.Five lanes of thick trafficbeyond the large window. A greyExpedition, front plateblaring out-of-state.The booth, already cleared. Professor Emerita of English at Aquinas College, Michelle DeRose lives and writes in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Her most… Continue reading

Delores Gilmore Summer solstice breezeCast diamonds on waterRippling ashoreSalty air ruffles the tents Friday morning farmers marketEduardo’s Fresh StrawberriesBooth stood between the honey sellerAnd the vegetable stall Emptiness fills the spacewith a view of the oceanlike a tooth missingfrom the vendor’s smile Donde esta Eduardo? I ask the neighborHis eyes narrowDart around crowdHis voice lowers… Continue reading

R. Yael Weissburg That day outside the courtroom when you fell into my arms,after he told you you’d been wasting your time,that they would send you to a country you’ve never known, I didn’t realize how quickly I’d come to love you,in our broken sentences, our tightly held hands,our reassuring touch when we ran out… Continue reading

R. Yael Weissburg What is it like, I wonder, to know someone’s fate before they do?To translate their future into existence?To be its messenger? One interpreter, I notice, speaks with eyes closed,maybe to focus on the task at hand,maybe to avoid the impact his words — not the judge’s —have on the young woman just… Continue reading

R. Yael Weissburg We brought two priests with us today:Father Tom and Father John. The judge is less unkind when they are with us,and today is bound to be unkind. This judge, Seminerio, seems to take pleasurein the ritual of humiliation,celebrating the liturgy of cruelty over his iniquitous flock;demanding penance, but offering no mercy,issuing orders… Continue reading

Sofía Reyes mis papeles dicen que existo,        que soy real pero el miedo no sabe leer,no pide documentos         una mirada hacia atrás        un carro negro        un corazón que corre ojos que se esconden         un alma que alguna vez                estuvo llena de esperanza ahogándose en el miedo *English translation below my papers say I exist        that I am real but fear… Continue reading