MICRO

Diagnosis

By BRITTANY ROGERS | 26 MAY 2020

By Viviane Sassen — Photo by Mustafa Omar

Diagnosis: Non-viable

Everything in this house reeks of wet copper:
my cast iron skillets; the new carpet in the family
room; the Comet streaked shower tile and clogged

sink; my toddlers pumpkin patch hair, his apple round
cheeks, that just three weeks ago pressed flat
to my stomach, whispering like he had the juiciest secret:

Mommy, I just think there’s a baby in your belly.

Brittany Rogers is a poet, mother, educator, and Hufflepuff Head of House. She is currently a reader for Muzzle Magazine, and has work published in Vinyl Poetry and Prose, Freezeray Poetry, Tinderbox Poetry, and The BreakBeat Poets: Black Girl Magic Anthology. Brittany has been nominated for Best New Poets and a Pushcart Prize, and is also a fellow of VONA/ Voices, The Watering Hole, Poetry Incubator, and Pink Door Writing Retreat. Additionally, she is co-creator of A Real Poetry Unit, which brings professional development to Chicago and Detroit educators.

POETRY

"I KISS THE FIRE IN YOUR HAND, OR CITY-BUILDERS" and "INTIMACY ABSTRACT"

By S. YARBERRY

"I don’t have the words / for what we are building. Not exactly. / But the buildings have purpose / even if they’re not all homes."

TRANSLATION

"A Memory," "El Viejo Son Oscuro," and "Sonnets To The Rain"

By FINA GARCíA MARRUZ

Happiness keeps quiet, like the child
playing in the corner, lost in her game.

WIT TEA

I am the Joy Your Mother Felt Before You Made That Face in Response to Her Kitchen Singing

By JANELLE BASSETT

So how ‘bout the next time you see your mother shaking and bending, keeping yet transcending time, and building toward a chorus, please feel free to take your visceral facial reaction and shove it into a book, or smash it against a digital screen.