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


by Melissa Monroe

Every fingersmith
needs a drum where he can play
possum for a spell.

“Red Slaughterhouse Non-Memory Number One”

by Richard Lyons

My father is wearing a raincoat, lofting an umbrella.
He’s wearing a priest’s collar, white tab at the trachea.
It looks as if he’s hearing the moon’s confession.

The moon is the long red jacket of an Angus.
I wish I were making this up.

“Vain Empires”

by Solon Timothy Woodward

To the open waters. To the open brown waters of the Nacogdoches. Pooch takes a look at his brother, Remmy, and the road pitches in their stupor between gelatinous walls of trees, foliage. The truck lurches—“The transmission is fucked”—and the nails of the pit bull, Sammy, click frenetically across the metal bed.

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