Gettysburg Review
Gettysburg College | Gettysburg, Pennsylvania


“Agricultural Fair”

by Tina Barr

Four little pigs ran in an orbit, an oblong
of four tracks, each ringed with a colored
collar, toward a pile of neon Cheetos,
then disappeared into their home trailer.

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by Linda Pastan

If each couplet should represent a single pearl,
are these strung beads at my throat words disguised as pearls?
The hooked fish looks up at them with recognition
as his eyes fade to the opacity of pearls.

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by Katharine Jager

Who weeps for cracked bluestone

pavements? For flowering lindens, their havoc
wrought on lung and sinus, for the flower
shops laden with peonies each winter?

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by Lynn Domina

The body says, I am a galaxy. Choose
sixteen or seven or ten stars and write your story
within their image: dragon, swan, virgin.
Your story will exceed the stars’ boundaries.

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“Psalm with Doors and Windows Open”

by Richard Lyons

The trees distract my attention and remember me as a passing,
as do the open windows and doors, and a flashing bicyclist
and a line of schoolkids on a rope between their tenders.
I move uneasily across a bridge, my hair gusting.
I’ve forgotten my little hat with the brim so I fret a little.

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“America Mix-Tape, Track 54”

by Jason Myers

We are living in paradise.
The front desk is open twenty-four hours,
the police speak seven languages and don’t dwell
on the insults they’ve endured, the hurts they’ve overheard.

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“See Coast Hurrying into Sea”

by Amy McCann

Didn’t it doily me? Wave-lace
tatting my ankles in an uneven

hem. A forgotten umbrella, a foraging
for shells—those vacant, softly

howling dwellings. . . .

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“Raiders of the Eskaton”

by Philip St. Clair

. . . when the Rapture comes, they will be taken up
only halfway: forever suspended in the middle of the clouds
    as the checkerboard earth and the vast blank oceans
revolve beneath, as cryptic patterns left by intercontinental jets
    slowly fade away against the blue-black dome above.

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by Dorothy Barresi

I don’t look at my face
in the mirror much anymore.
It has its life, I have mine.

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“ ‘In a State of Intoxication’ ”

by Sandra Beasley

The navel corresponds to the omphalos.
A corner corresponds to a right angle.
A spoon corresponds against its bowl—
curve to curve, an efficiency of emptying.

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