the golden armor of science
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poetry
When the Sounds of Fallen Patriots Break into the Wind, I Will Play Dead, by Olalekan Daniel Kehinde
Tonight, I have promisednot to write after my country’s terrorno matter how many .22 calibersdrop dead from cartridges, or a
For Kristen, Who Would Have Turned 47 Today, by Melissa Frederick
April 7, 2020 I found your obituary in an online archive,where our newspapers return to earththese days. Hard to explain the
Mourning Person, by Anuja Mitra
most ghost sightings are griefhallucinations. no one wants to admitto delusion, even when inducedby tragedy. scientists say we are shifting
Earth as Eidolon, by Alexander Atreya
Suicide. Publisher’s Note: this poem is best read on a desktop or tablet, as mobile viewing does not preserve the
Inferno guts Manila, by Mark Cunanan
Reappears, out of the thick grey smog, our edificerazed to the ground again: columns cracked open by power lines,
Untitled, by Abhinav
there are certain twilights that resist escape. time bleeding out of your ear—the swathes of pink still like a gaze
prim pressed posies, by Ai Jiang
do not make what is dead immortalthe stem bone marrow sucked dryits waters droughted blood spilt no longer petals—skin only limbs,
Troop No. 80085, by Marisca Pichette
girl guidesus down into our decadentafterlife. scouts in sashes patchedwith soulsspritz us with bath & body worksand smudge uswith sage.
How the Blubber Boy Came to Be, by Shantell Powell
The young widow is clad in the patience of ancestors.Her hands are capable.Her needle thrusts strong.Her stitches neat.But in the