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Soules, Poetry by Ayah Aly

I have rummaged through octaves
And skin hues and hair bushels of all sorts
Searching for my profoundly dead ancestors
In women with Emmett’s sunset eyes
And men with Maya’s sandstone-like stature
Not quite unintentionally, barely efficaciously.
Then there was you.

Corona, Poetry by Greg Kanyicska

Those sands of the Moroccan Sahara that you
Walked, you touched, you breathed, have sailed over waves,
Greedy waves, on the Harmattan wind
To cross the Atlantic;