If every bomb 
Appeared in the sky a dove
Shrapnel into rain

If vengeance vanquished 
From the cursed lips of weak men
An idea never taking root

If every tank vanished
If by chance a miracle
Peace reclaims the land

If laughter broke out
Like wars fought with satire’s
Pugilist punning 

What room would there be
For anger what bitter root
Not allowed to stretch

Its tentacles 
Through the hearts of men hardened
By indifference 

What will we bequeath 
Our children if not a world
Evermore human

Copyright © 2024 by Tony Medina. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 19, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets. 

Such a wild beauty 
extracted from black ashes (echo) 
A series of calculated crashes 

I simply
call them romances.  

I photograph you in my bed in the morning 
I miss you and you never leave 
Your scent remains, unbelievably 
I pray to all the Gods 
and my lies still don’t believe in me. 

You dance inside the snow 
Slush beneath your boots 
We talk philosophy and hardcover books 
Sometimes i find the heart you took and carry 
It around, a handsome crook 
A savior among a crown 
of thorns and petals never worn 
Of flowers dead and letters never sent 

Did you see the way the summer wept 
Did you feel my bones break 
                                   inside your hands

How fragile are the strong and mad
Who dare to wrap themselves in flags

Sewn by slaves and walked over graves (echo)
Jessica, you say, you must behave. 

Yourself. I don’t know what to do with wealth 
Cept spend it on a love affair or place bright flowers 
In my hair. 

Just tell me what color I should wear to a funeral
                                with no people there? 

Bodies asleep deep in my chest 
Kiss me, since we are all that’s left 
In love, in fear, scared half to death 

Humans aren’t so interesting my son insists 
We have no wings. No power beyond our century 
We are given less, and still we sing. 
We dress the part 
I keep the veil, and pawn the rings. 

I want to steal Saul’s new hat and Dante’s bright green boots 
My fashionable brothers. 

You. Brooklyn bridge. I am hula     hoop 
Swirling dervish in a perfect suit 
Oh my love, my memory swoons. 

Such a wild beauty extracted from black ashes (echo) 
A series of calculated crashes 
I simply call them     beautiful massive 
Oh wait, I believe I wrote romances. 

Protecting me from the brutality, the wounded savage 
You, that’s me. Pointing fingers deliciously. 
Baby, please hold onto me. 

I only want love to hold me for ransom. I know he is. 
They are all so handsome. Perhaps, a very good looking cancer. 
I call your name, pray you don’t answer. 

Such a wild 
           beauty.

Copyright © 2024 by jessica Care moore. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 23, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets. 

That ants still emerge from a jasmine bloom

is telling: not everything’s ours to take.

But it’s true we’re all knit by land, consumed

by storms and rolling heat, days opaque

with mosquitoes. This world will let us live

just as long as we’re meant to. And then it’s 

kiss rocks, bruv. The songbirds power dive

if you near their nests. The kills osprey commit

glint like coins in their talons, but money’s

no match for what this bright violence buys.

Heron chicks fuzzed awake in a pine tree,

three grown birds, ink-black crowns and yellow eyes

guarding. That’s all we can do. You, from the roof,

camera lens extended, offer this as proof.

Copyright © 2024 by Avni Vyas. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 6, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.