Gettysburg Review
Gettysburg College | Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Poetry

“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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“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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“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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“Face”

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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“Hazel”

by Nancy Zafris

I saw her at a party where no
one was having fun except her.
It was a celebration of profits
and the long hours of billable work.

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“No Bed for Francis Bacon”

by Deborah Flanagan

Bacon has a mouth that looks
unhappy, always tries
to monopolize the conversation.

Beheads his best friend, the Earl of Essex.

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“As If We Had No Other Place to Go than X”

by Edward Mayes

As if we had no other place to go than X
Or the precursor of X or the dreamy state

Of X, where our bodies have windows
Instead of shadows, where we pass through

The first doorway ever conceived . . .

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“A Nun Eats Out of Turn on a Fast Day”

by Adrian Koesters

What it means to need         this much as she faces a metal bowl
Of boiled eggs in the peels         she dips her hand, . . .

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“Heirloom”

by Diane Schenker

Take Medea’s cloak of fire.
Put it on. To everyone’s great horror,
wearer burns to a crisp.

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