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The Song of the Reed by Mina Gorji after Rumi

Inside the reed a wainscot moth winters, as an egg.

Inside the reed a secret, longing for the wind.

Inside the reed a message gathers into ink.

— Art of Escape by Mina Gorji (Page 13)

Telemachus by Ocean Vuong

Like any good son, I pull my father out of the water, drag him by his hair

through white sand, his knuckles carving a trail the waves rush in to erase. Because the city

beyond the shore is no longer where we left it. Because the bombed

cathedral is now a cathedral of trees. I kneel beside him to see how far

I might sink. Do you know who I am, Ba? But the answer never comes. The answer

is the bullet hole in his back, brimming with seawater. He is so still I think

he could be anyone's father, found the way a green bottle might appear

at a boy's feet containing a year he has never touched. I touch

his ears. No use. I turn him over. To face it. The cathedral

in his sea-black eyes. The face not mine—but one I will wear

to kiss all my lovers good-night: the way I seal my father's lips

with my own & begin the faithful work of drowning.

— Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong (Page 7)

People Need People by Benjamin Zephaniah

To walk to To talk to To cry and rely on, People will always need people. To love and to miss To hug and to kiss, It's useful to have other people. To whom will you moan If you're all alone, It's so hard to share When no one is there, There's not much to do When there's no one but you, People will always need people.

To please To tease To put you at ease, People will always need people. To make life appealing And give life some meaning, It's useful to have other people. If you need a change To whom will you turn, If you need a lesson From who will you learn, If you need to play You'll know why I say People will always need people.

As girlfriends As boyfriends, From Bombay To Ostend, People will always need people. To have friendly fights with And share tasty bites with, It's useful to have other people. People live in families Gangs, posses and packs, It seems we need company Before we relax, So stop making enemies And let's face the facts, People will always need people, Yes People will always need people.

— Wicked World! by Benjamin Zephaniah (Page 64)

A Lesson on Love by Nikita Gill

My dog and I do not speak the same language. Yet every day, she tells me: I trust you to know when I need to go for a walk. I will let you hold me when you need to and I will ask you for love when I need it. On the days you are sick, I will lie beside you. I will look for you in rooms when you are not here, and I will greet you with so much joy when you come home. I will guard you when you sleep. I will wag my tail and let you know that everything will be okay on your bad days, and I know that you will do the same on mine.

And from this I learn that my dog and I actually do speak the same language.

After all, the universe is a kindly ancient thing. It gave love as a mother tongue to every being.

— Where Hope Comes From by Nikita Gill (Page 74)

Exotic Animals, Book for Children

Armadillo means "little armored one." Some of us become this to survive in our own countries. I would like to see an armadillo crossing the road. Our armor is invisible, it polishes itself. We might have preferred to be a softer animal, wouldn't you? With fur and delicate paws, like an African Striped Grass Mouse, also known as Zebra Mouse.

— Tiny Journalist by Naomi Shihab Nye (Page 20)

How the Milky Way Was Made by Natalie Diaz

My river was once unseparated. Was Colorado. Red- fast flood. Able to take

anything it could wet—in a wild rush—

all the way to Mexico.

Now it is shattered by fifteen dams over one thousand four hundred and fifty miles,

pipes and pumps filling swimming pools and sprinklers

in Los Angeles and Las Vegas.

To save our fish, we lifted them from our skeletoned river beds, loosed them in our heavens, set them aster—

'Achii 'ahan, Mojave salmon,

Colorado pike minnow.

Up there they glide gilled with stars. You see them now—

god-large, gold-green sides,

lunar-white belly to breast—

making their great speeded way across the darkest hours, rippling the sapphired sky-water into a galaxy road.

The blurred wake they drag as they make their path through the night sky is called

'Achii 'ahan nyuunye—

our words for Milky Way.

Coyote too is up there, locked in the moon after his failed attempt to leap it, fishing net wet

and empty slung over his back—

a prisoner blue and dreaming

of unzipping the salmon's silked skins with his teeth. O, the weakness of any mouth

as it gives itself away to the universe

of a sweet-milk body.

As my own mouth is dreamed to thirst the long desire-ways, the hundred thousand light-year roads

of your wrists and thighs.

— Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz (Page 61)

The Secret of My Arms by Juan Felipe Herrera (en español abajo)

The secret of my arms a bit of gold in the dimness the course of my blood a wing from the sea the triangle of my roads a star of your mouth the blouse of my guitar a stone of gulls the sketch of my throat an oil of your eyes the flame of my forehead a blemish of your tears the solitude of my hands the secret of my arms

El secreto de mis brazos

El secreto de mis brazos un oro de la tiniebla el rumbo de mi sangre una ala del mar el triángulo de mis caminos una estrella de tu boca la blusa de mi guitarra una piedra de gaviotas el dibujo de mi garganta un aceite de tus ojos la flama de mi frente un lunar de tu llanto la soledad de mis manos el secreto de mis brazo

— Half of the world in light by Juan Felipe Herrera (Camino del sol) (Page 62)

Unexpected Scales by Kishwar Naheed (tr. by Amna Yaqeen)

I saw There was neither wood nor any baggage But still on the tray of compromise a bridge had been built Those who needed to pass had crossed it And those who were to fall had fallen

I saw There was no hand nor limb But still in a few moments, the scale had become weightless Only the walls remained The turban had lost its honour.

I saw There was nobody to press the trigger nor the rifle Still in tree houses and trenches Instead of the kettle drum of knowledge There was a tinkling sound From the toy like rifle The very first golden pages were coming out.

I saw Words that had been stripped of their covering were not dejected They were not asking for a shroud They only wanted a needle So they could rub out the relationship between words and lips.

— Salt in Wounds by Kishwar Naheed (Page 164)

Metamorphism by Helene Johnson

Is this the sea? This calm emotionless bosom, Serene as the heart of a converted Magdalene— Or this? This lisping, lulling murmur of soft waters Kissing a white beached shore with tremulous lips; Blue rivulets of sky gurgling deliciously O'er pale smooth-stones— This too? This sudden birth of unrestrained splendor, Tugging with turbulent force at Neptune's leash; This strange tempestuous soliloquy of Nature, All these—the sea?

— Black nature by Camille T. Dungy (Page 25)

A Robin's Nest in Snow by Nikki Giovanni

Outside the window of my den Where I sit usually counting clouds Or airplanes or chipmunks scurrying by On a snowy day I still see The nest through the flurries

Snowflakes are so delicate they melt On your tongue Sit proudly on your shoulders Tangle themselves in your braids

Last spring I didn't know A bird had made a home In my river birch There was activity but I thought It was the crepe myrtle Only when the tree exhales Did the life reveal itself

The snow piled up neatly Filling the crevice Hopefully destroying the viruses and bacteria That can attack the young still blind robins And I a survivor of lung cancer nestle Hope in my heart that no harm will remain When Spring and birds return

— Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea by Nikki Giovanni (Page 6)

2 haiku by Sonia Sanchez

1. Your eyes ignite . . . stampede death

2. your body turns towards me more than baptism.

— Morning haiku by Sonia Sanchez (Page 69)