Clara Lee · University of Minnesota · Honorable Mention in Poetry
On October blacktop poured over limestone, the hard ghost of an inland sea, farmland, then floodplains now emptied by whistle,
Geo Gomez · Grinnell College
My grandmother prays to Santa Guadalupe, the one embalmed on her nightstand candle.
Mollyhall Seeley · New York University
Saint Anthony mostly goes by El Capitán. I call him patroncito because it drives him crazy (he’s a terrible racist). Usually he won’t see me because he says that I don’t lose things, I ignore them.
Carolyn Decker · Wheaton College
Loving you is stepping through ice, that first moment in a scalding shower, when I curve my spine against the impulse to shiver.
Danny Macdonald · Tufts University
there are cliffs underwater and if you hold a rock you can sink off of them it is like intentional drowning but you can let go before you get to the bottom
Robert Miller · St. Olaf College · Honorable Mention in Poetry
to the public museum of road kill
Melissa Robert · Tufts University
Sun beats through the blinds this morning, awoken like a puppet— Today I finish it.
Elizabeth Burdette · College of Charleston
A man had written head on his forehead, and hand on each hand, and foot on each foot.
Amber Rambharose · University of Cincinnati
I think about the bullet in his wrist that still floats between radius and ulna.
Brittany Kleinschnitz · Bennington College
A cow lies in a paddock, a dead eucalyptus.