Gettysburg College | Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
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. . . .
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.
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.
by Dorothy Barresi
I don’t look at my face
in the mirror much anymore. It has its life, I have mine.
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.
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.
by Deborah Flanagan
Bacon has a mouth that looks
unhappy, always tries to monopolize the conversation. Beheads his best friend, the Earl of Essex.
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 . . .
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, . . .
by Diane Schenker
Take Medea’s cloak of fire.
Put it on. To everyone’s great horror, wearer burns to a crisp.