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Gettysburg Review
Gettysburg College | 300 N. Washington Street | Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

“House of Stone and Song”

by Margaret Gibson

Because we live in a country where no one I know
sings to God in the streets,
I’m given to wandering past margins of fern and wild honeysuckle, . . .


by Martha Zweig

Displayed under a cold washcloth, mother would moan,
“My head is worse. My head
is worse than a breadbox.
It is worse
than brussels sprouts, & worse
than the head of God, bulging with wars.”

“Strangers in Friendly Places”

by Paul Zimmer

When America entered World War II, I was seven years old. My mother’s parents were French and Belgian immigrants, and my father was of German ancestry, but they did not clash over the war. Mostly we worried that it might come to America, to our town of many factories. My father was in the Civil Defense Corps and took a red-filtered flashlight out into the practice blackouts while we sat in our darkened basement and mother taught us French songs—“Frère Jacques” and “Alouette.”


by Michelle Boisseau

Snow rides into our shoes. Birds in the snow,
our children’s bright queries don’t break
the swollen quiet. Too late now. Windshield wipers
slap the snow away. Where silence ended, it stays.

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