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Weeds In Her Curly Hair, Hareendran Kallinkeel
Weeds In Her Curly Hair, Hareendran Kallinkeel
Bryant Literary Review
“I need a dagger,” Shiva says, “double-edged…and razor-sharp.”
The blacksmith turns from his furnace and stares at him in
surprise. What the hell is a renowned writer doing here? he thinks as he
stands up and walks towards Shiva.
Mud And Truth, Hannah Kass
Mud And Truth, Hannah Kass
Bryant Literary Review
Tsofi knew the story since her mother began telling it to her and her brother almost every night. Other villagers would notice how her people did not eat the same meat or observe the same day of rest. In her mind those differences were as arbitrary as preferring to eat lamb or chicken. Yet such arbitrary reasons had sparked the most violent of reactions.
Dreams Of Flight, Beth Paulson
Dreams Of Flight, Beth Paulson
Bryant Literary Review
A man with wings large enough and duly attached might learn to overcome the resistance of air. Leonardo da Vinci
No Icarus, you knew pulleys and winches would keep a man tethered
to earth though he rise high above a stage for a duke’s entertainment.
In your fabrico you built mechanical birds of wood and bright-dyed
linen, then raised men up on ropes to fly and float, angels with dark
curls, gilt-edged wings.
Jaffa Coffee, Tehila Wenger
Jaffa Coffee, Tehila Wenger
Bryant Literary Review
The waitress placed the cappuccino down carefully on my left, next to the open computer. I glanced into the mug and noted that there was no design in the foam. My anticipation for the caffeinating process dropped immediately by several degrees, along with my belief in the basic goodness of mankind.
An Open Letter To The White Feminists Holding A Literary Panel On Toni Morrison, Matthew E. Henry
An Open Letter To The White Feminists Holding A Literary Panel On Toni Morrison, Matthew E. Henry
Bryant Literary Review
look to your left, your right—where
are her sisters? why are they missing?
Amends, Renay Costa
Amends, Renay Costa
Bryant Literary Review
Quinn searched the chalkboard menu of the café deliberating what the appropriate beverage would be. What does a soon-to-be-divorcée drink while composing a letter to the man she separated from about a month ago? Wine would be the obvious option, but she was now a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, and the letter was part of the ninth step, which required her to “make direct amends” to those she had harmed, and tonight she was attempting her amends to Gil, her soon-to-be ex-husband. A pumpkin spice latte, her regular order, seemed too saccharine and sentimental.
Raul, Paul Lamar
Raul, Paul Lamar
Bryant Literary Review
On the twelfth day of his new job as a security guard outside of S–, one of M–’s finest men’s shops, Raul B– stumbled upon a unique answer to the question of store security, though he was never to be aware of his particular gift or its profound impact on crime in M–.
That Thing, Susan Taylor Chehak
That Thing, Susan Taylor Chehak
Bryant Literary Review
My pap’s eyes are bad. It’s not the books or the computer, not the
peering at small letters on a page or on a screen. And it isn’t just a
consequence of age either. His peepers went bad a long time ago, when
he was young.
Only Touch Is Impossible, So We Touch, John Sibley Williams
Only Touch Is Impossible, So We Touch, John Sibley Williams
Bryant Literary Review
Silence enters us.
These once familiar faces go strange
over time.
The Bush Burned With Fire And The Bush Was Not Consumed, Peter Munro
The Bush Burned With Fire And The Bush Was Not Consumed, Peter Munro
Bryant Literary Review
Skin draws gaunt to his skull, deflating
jowls he has borne across eight decades.
The Help, J. Tarwood
The Help, J. Tarwood
Bryant Literary Review
In the morning, the radio
praises God while the maid
cracks eggs.
God And God's, Sandy Weisman
God And God's, Sandy Weisman
Bryant Literary Review
God ran our house, decided what
we could or could not do.
Young Tragic Heroines, Elaine Little
Young Tragic Heroines, Elaine Little
Bryant Literary Review
The letter was addressed to Diane, predictably misspelled. It was from a postal box in a town known only for its prison. When she saw the name, Ben Strickert, she tore it open.
Learning From Her, Emily Madapusi Pera
Learning From Her, Emily Madapusi Pera
Bryant Literary Review
A lot you could learn from her,
you thought.
Dog Whistle, Tina Cane
Dog Whistle, Tina Cane
Bryant Literary Review
It begins with a tweet the bird kind in which a friend of mine
deems the hummingbird her spirit animal delicate engine
Copy Cat Music, John Krumberger
Copy Cat Music, John Krumberger
Bryant Literary Review
I never asked his name
-no suitable pause between the torrent
of New York accented syllables that flowed
Night Shadows, Jimmie Pennington
Night Shadows, Jimmie Pennington
Bryant Literary Review
Night shadows
lie on empty walls
like the silhouettes
of yesterday's dreams
Judge, John P. Kristofco
Judge, John P. Kristofco
Bryant Literary Review
Richard Witched noticed the small envelope in his mailbox right away.
It sat like a white raft on the sea of gray, brown, and beige detritus that
gathered, as it did almost every day, in his slot.
Chicago - 1966, Michael Walls
Chicago - 1966, Michael Walls
Bryant Literary Review
I remember you well. Sidewalks were slush,
snow piled along the edges.
Mastery, Ken Victor
Mastery, Ken Victor
Bryant Literary Review
And the experience of the failed
work is a prod to practice: think of
Is It Alice, Amy Or Anne?, George Longenecker
Is It Alice, Amy Or Anne?, George Longenecker
Bryant Literary Review
Huddled with four other nameless people,
who sleep on cardboard and blankets,
in the entry of a garage alcove,
Saudade, Lisa Russo
Saudade, Lisa Russo
Bryant Literary Review
Now that you're gone, you've left me longing.
I smile softly because you were here
Constructing Border Quilts, Martha Brenckle
Constructing Border Quilts, Martha Brenckle
Bryant Literary Review
looking for justice with thread, pins, needle
and scissors, cutting shirts and dungarees abandoned
Fortress*, . Yvonne
Fortress*, . Yvonne
Bryant Literary Review
Not a single ceiling or window fan
In our stifling apartment on the top floor.
Object Permanence, Jacob Nelson
Object Permanence, Jacob Nelson
Bryant Literary Review
When the sheet is pulled over
your father's face is still there,
his mustache, too, for you to tug.
The Good Son, William Torphy
The Good Son, William Torphy
Bryant Literary Review
I'm on Trailways, staring through dirty windows at mounds of snow piled on the side of the road. I couldn't face everyone's questions, their judgments. Even Shirley at the bank gave me a suspicious look when she handed me my cancelled savings book and the $357.45 from my account this morning.
Living Dolls, Andrena Zawinski
Living Dolls, Andrena Zawinski
Bryant Literary Review
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk. Sylvia Plath
As a little girl, I never wanted any creepy
The Wandering Buddha, Cate Gable
The Wandering Buddha, Cate Gable
Bryant Literary Review
for chef Jimella Lucas
Entering the Bardo or another set
of bones, you cannot know
we mourn your knife skills,
The Book Of Bad Faith, Noel Sloboda
The Book Of Bad Faith, Noel Sloboda
Bryant Literary Review
Back when Mom first swore
Dad rated an entire chapter