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

“Scallions”

by Michael Borich

I’m kneeling to the snap beans and snow peas and early
   Girls whose pale breasts swell behind their foliage,
And I bless the firm stalks and flowering roots, and I

Curse the eyeless borers and nits and leaf rot and airborne
   Plagues and moles, those tunneling, underground rats . . .


“My Father’s Bowling Trophies”

by Ray Hedin

My father’s bowling trophies sit on a shelf in my garage, undusted, splayed in all directions, next to bottles of Miracle-Gro and Weed-B-Gon. They sketch out a good deal of my father’s suburban, parish-league bowling career: Hi Series, Kuples Klub, 1953–54, G. Hedin, 648; Kuples Klub, 1968–69, High Game (unspecified); Kuples Klub, 1st Place, 1980–81, G. Hedin, League Champion, St. Petronille, 1981–82; League Champion (plaque missing).


“Hope”

by John Leary

Wilson and Edie’s baby arrived one sunny morning in June. It kicked the front door with its foot, as the doorbell was beyond a baby’s reach. “Hi,” Wilson said. “You must be our new baby.”
    The baby held two small suitcases. “Can you give me a hand with these?” it said. “They must weigh a ton.”


“He Takes Me to See the Oldest Tree”

by Lynne McMahon

            in Missouri, a burr oak, the oxidized plaque
faintly states, which so dominates the landscape
                        he calls it Wordsworth . . .

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