REAL SUPERMAN

(and "nevah" means “not ever”)

by Regina YC Garcia

Superman would nevah….

pledge allegiance to Lex Luthor

beat down the Tamale Lady

snatch a child from a loving mother

snatch a  loving mother from the grasp of  a terrified child

cage them  strip them  from each other 

pull them from the light of hope 

Superman would nevah….

dump Mr. Terrific from his chair

keep him from accessing his reasonable accommodations

cancel his yearly checkup 

lie about his color… his culture… his merit 

leave him hungry… emaciated… prey for predators 

Superman would nevah….

set fire to non-perishable food

soak the ashes in a blood-soaked ground

willingly hand his red cloak to the enemy that they might cover the eyes of the innocents 

     and steal  their liberty

Superman would nevah….

forget the “Golden Rule”

shut down opportunities 

enlist the fools to join a league of injustice

     that they might  overtake the land

Superman would save the alligators 

from the monsters that built shoddy cages and dangled distraught meat from unclean hands 

Superman would nevah….

forget where he came from

forget who helped him and loved him

     all along the way 

forget that we all have a part to play

     a part that bends towards justice

     redefines the American way

     a way that ushers in a prosperity

     that ensures we all stay free 

     and more 

          and even more 

(unnecessary too tall buildings and death waters be damned)

Regina YC Garcia is a national award-winning poet, professor, and language artist from Greenville, NC. She is a twice-nominated Puscart nominee, and her work has been widely published in a variety of journals reviews and anthologies, as well as musical compositions and documentaries. She is the author of two collections of poetry—Whispers from the Multiverse (Aquarius Press/Willow Books, February 2025) and The Firetalker’s Daughter (Finishing Line Press, March 2023).

4 70

by Akua Lezli Hope

In a case that has drawn comparisons to “Les Misérables,” the Supreme Court of Cassation [Italy] threw out the conviction of a homeless man from Ukraine, Roman Ostriakov, who was caught trying to take 4.07 euros — about $4.70 — worth of cheese and sausage from a store in Genoa without paying for it. A trial court sentenced him in February 2015 to six months in jail and a fine of €100. NY Times, May 3, 2016

Not since JeanValjean have we understood
so clearly the wages of steal or starve
damned for either for both for most
punished for manifesting the system’s failure
our e-screens endless disgorgement
of unattainable nutrition  satisfaction  satiation
bloats many, maims more with fatty malnutrition
but this isn’t that, it is about lack  lack  lack
of will to see all sated, to even the baseline
start us all level, fed, when there is food right before us,
or stashed and rotting in shipholds still
why many go hungry and this time there will
be no jail for the body’s keening, there will be no
incarceration for hunger, this time there will be no
ravening relentless pursuit by a mad cop
this time someone listened and injustice stopped

Akua Lezli Hope is a creator who uses sound, words, fiber, glass, and metal, to create poems, patterns, stories, music, ornaments, wearables, jewelry, adornments and peace whenever possible. A third generation Caribbean American, New Yorker and firstborn, she has won fellowships from the New York Foundation for the Arts,  Ragdale, Hurston Wright writers, and the National Endowment for The Arts.  She is a Cave Canem fellow. Her manuscript, Them Gone, won Red Paint Hill Publishing’s Editor’s Prize and will be published in 2016.

CUTBACKS

by Catherine McGuire

Cartoon by Politico's Matt Wuerker

“It’s gotten hard,” he said, shaking out a Lucky
from the pack, lighting, sucking nicotine.
“Bank slammed us with overdrafts, landlord
wants us out. Two jobs folded –
there’s nothing in this county. Nothing.”

Drizzle feathers his worn shearling coat.
He glances at me, away.
Under the anger, terror. At thirty,
strong, skilled, he chases two-bit jobs, like mine.
Between rabbits, he tells me of the farms shut down,
or selling out, of the rattle-trap car too complex
for him to fix. The job forms, the ad in Craigs List,
the silence. He dispatches the second rabbit,
cuts short its squeal with practiced aim.

He shrugs. “Might have to leave. Alaska,
shale fields… but moving costs money – what if
there’s nothing there?”
I give him five bucks, offer him a rabbit,
let him have his pick of homemade jams.
No welfare for single white men.
Let them work, the Lear jet crowd sneers.
or let them starve.


Catherine McGuire has had almost 300 poems published in venues such as: Adagio, Avocet, Folio, Fireweed, FutureCycle, Green Fuse, Main Street Rag, New Verse News, Nibble, Portland Lights Anthology and Tapjoe. Her chapbook, Palimpsests, was released by Uttered Chaos in 2011. She has three self-published chapbooks.