What sustains us? While selecting poems for this issue, we tore through a tub of chocolate chip cookies and half a bag of baby carrots. We wish we could eat poems like cookies, but we found sustenance in exciting wordplay and syntax and the surprise of shifting perspectives. These poems say, “I may be your meal,/ sweet and plummy,” as Katrina Greco writes. But like Boona Daroom’s “blowtorched apple butter sucking/ through a straw from a jar on the slab,” they don’t go down easy.