Arts and Humanities Commons^™

Bad Accident, Amy Lawless

Bryant Literary Review

I lose touch with reality. I reach my arm out to my future, to the myself who knows there’s no trace of cancer, the benefits of preventative care, the past is in the past, the complete competence of his medical team, but I don’t reach back.

Coming To The End Of His Triumph, Amy Lawless

Bryant Literary Review

I’ve watched the YouTube video Primož Roglič Bad Accident many times. This event led to his switch from ski jumping to cycling. Ski jumping, to a wimp like me, is the essence of dare devilry.

Dear Breast Cancer,, Clara Burghelea

Bryant Literary Review

You smell of clean skin, cent-free armpits, choked-up, hard to swallow nausea, bubble gum flavor in the hair from the 11-year-old in the car. You see we drove 200 miles, woke up at wee hours to ditch traffic, had breakfast in the car, cold waffles, gulped on bad coffee, rode the highway on TikTok noise, before I knew it, I had arms around my shoulders, chewing gum love next to my right ear.

Thank You Terror, 2, Mathias Svalina

Bryant Literary Review

If one is lucky

one will find

Thank You Terror, 3, Mathias Svalina

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

The Family Bends Ii, Jason Talbot

Bryant Literary Review

Hands

once swollen in prayer, and

arms

stiff like branches,

whipping papier-mâché

heads.

A Welling, Carol Ann Wilburn

Bryant Literary Review

I embrace the lightness

of this Kentucky March

wearing not the edges

of a dim January

but the fertile shoots of April.

Airborne, Carol Ann Wilburn

Bryant Literary Review

Every change below

tells me I’m farther away

from him.

Beyond Poland, Rosalind Goldsmith

Bryant Literary Review

Her body can’t escape the cold but her mind can. It casts up through the night, scattering itself into the sky over the Atlantic Ocean.

Watching My Daughter’S Tap Recital, David O'Connel

Bryant Literary Review

I think of Mrs. B, my typing teacher

that summer before high school

Absence Doesn't Soften The Grass, Yvonne Higgins Leach

Bryant Literary Review

Seeing that my dog is old and dying, my neighbor said:

That’s why I never got one. Truth is, they always die before you do.

The Family Bends, Jason Talbot

Bryant Literary Review

Evenings, sitting quietly

with grandpa

his hands, too much

for mice and rabbits.

The Cantaloupe From Peoria, Dane Cervine

Bryant Literary Review

In 1941, an Oxford policeman, while pruning his roses, scratched his face on a thorn. Ignoring the slight cut, it grew infected, spread, taking his eye and bringing him close to death.

Grand Union, Ellie Anderson

Bryant Literary Review

I have a photo of Daddy

in front of the Grand Union Hotel.

Not Easy, Ellie Anderson

Bryant Literary Review

I was talking to my father,

“Don’t call me ‘the kid’ anymore.

Heirloom, Carol Ann Wilburn

Bryant Literary Review

She lets go

of her secret

long held prisoner by the mahogany

four-poster

Adelaster, Deborah S. Prespare

Bryant Literary Review

To prevent herself from slipping into another chaotic downward cycle of panicked anxiety, she squashes the rising tide, drops in the toilet her pill-shaped companions, and sizing up her failing reflection, chooses the last-ditch, arduous path left to an imprisoned soul.

Not A Piece Of Furniture, Alex Smith

Bryant Literary Review

On the first day of the first job I got after Javier was deported, I tried to ignore the couple’s fighting.

Night In The City Looks Pretty To Me, Roger Logan

Bryant Literary Review

Allison was trying to come up with a version of that old joke. A kangaroo or whatever walks into a bar and the bartender says, “Say, we don’t get many kangaroos in here.”

Live In The Mood, Mark Taksa

Bryant Literary Review

My toes under a bench, I could be floating

as I watch breeze bend the passersby.

Night Terrors, Patrick Bernhard

Bryant Literary Review

Kara turned away from the TV and glanced at the glowing wall clock. 2:56. She had now passed her previous record for staying up watching Night Terrors, which was 2:37.

I Am Here For You, Saoirse E. Doyle

Bryant Literary Review

Had someone met my six-year-old self at that sacristy door any one of the hundreds of times that neighboring farmer shoved me out when he was done, I would likely have fainted.

Poof!, Kathie Giorgio

Bryant Literary Review

When I was nine years old, a boy socked me on the arm at recess. He hit hard, enough to cause me to cry out, to bring tears to my eyes, though I wouldn’t let them escape.

Come, Gentle Night., Michael Washburn

Bryant Literary Review

Arthur took one look at the forlorn stranger standing by the stone wall at the base of the hill in the cool evening and thought: Gordon Comstock.

Loving Algorithms, P.J. Powell

Bryant Literary Review

My husband and I were watching TV with my mom late one night when my phone rang. It was her doctor calling to tell me we needed to take her to the hospital—now.

The Unvanquished, Marlene Olin

Bryant Literary Review

“Retirement is overrated,” said Morris.

My Father's Last Disappointment, Ellie Anderson

Bryant Literary Review

He had a name like cashmere, Kazimierz,

but changed it to Charles (and went by Charlie)

Nightly Feats Of Survival, Jonathan Greenhause

Bryant Literary Review

The infinite sky’s shrunk into a rectangle of wan light, the earth

cradling the captive like a clam clasps its pearl,

In The Night, A Song, Tyrel Kessinger

Bryant Literary Review

I wish I had the kind of shadow

that would carry my darkness

instead of only being its shape.

Thank You Terror, 1, Mathias Svalina

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.