Fiction Commons^™

The Devil Tides, Jennifer Martelli

The Lindenwood Review: a journal of literary prose

No abstract provided.

Study Of Disbelief, John Mccarthy

The Lindenwood Review: a journal of literary prose

No abstract provided.

Pentimento, Sandy Coomer

The Lindenwood Review: a journal of literary prose

No abstract provided.

I Ache In Portugese, Cristal Cardoso Sao Mateus

The Laureate

No abstract provided.

Message Status, David Shrauger

Bryant Literary Review

Sam awoke with a smile, just like he did every day.

He brushed his teeth with a smile,

Omaha Beach, Jon Malchiodi

Bryant Literary Review

My only friend Bill sits beside me.

He smells like booze and is burning,

Fly With Me, Meagan Pessolano

Bryant Literary Review

I drink to our love tonight

Cheers to all the lovers across the seas

Father's 86th Birthday, Douglas K. Currier

Bryant Literary Review

He wonders why he should go another year.

He can barely walk; he can't grip with his hands

Trap, Susan Johnson

Bryant Literary Review

A loud snap, a mouse half-trapped

one leg caught, one free, still leaping

Library Of The Lost, Howard R. Wolf

Bryant Literary Review

He had spent years paying attention to his elders, and now he was one.

Elegy For Galway Kinnell, David O'Connell

Bryant Literary Review

November, the first snowfall, a confectionary sugar,

is turning now to sleet, the evening's tempo quickening

Funky Fresh, Ryan Girard

Bryant Literary Review

Warm lights flash

Scuffs of roller skates litter the dance floor

You Could Die Laughing (For Sarah Purnell And Especially For Anne), Don Fisher

Bryant Literary Review

I told a co-worker about a mutual friend dying.

She thumbed away one tear.

Nothing, Nathan Rivas

Bryant Literary Review

It's all I have to offer.

Not a penny for the man

shaking his cup,

John, Paul, George And Me, Brian Daldorph

Bryant Literary Review

I was the Beatles' first drummer,

played the first gig at The Cavern

Laundry, Will Walker

Bryant Literary Review

It's what separates us from the beasts.

Plato did not say I only wear

the idea of laundry;

This Man's Life, Brian Daldorph

Bryant Literary Review

If only for a short time

a man has all that he wants:

Escape, Dolores Redfearn

Bryant Literary Review

Mambo sounds provoke the silence, waking the sleepwalkers in the street below.

A Fifth Of Old Crow, Mitch Lescarbeau

Bryant Literary Review

Feathers black as an undertaker's wingtips,

he struts resplendent with a monocle and a walking stick

Laundromat, Sheila Golburgh Johnson

Bryant Literary Review

Out of the washer

endlessly swirling,

damp and wrinkled

and knotted from harsh

The Man Who Will Perform My Colonoscopy, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

As I slouch in the shower, drained by fear

and laxatives, does he look forward to a day

With Birds Flying Below Her, Patricia O'Donnell

Bryant Literary Review

Where Muriel wants to be is sitting on a terrace, one on a mountain with a view of the ocean.

The Acid God & The Anti-Dad, Saint James Harris Wood

Bryant Literary Review

With his dirty blond grown-out Beatles haircut, secondhand Hawaiian silk shirts and second-rate flip-flops

Love Match, Ann Robinson

Bryant Literary Review

Beast with cufflinks and condoms,

studmuffin with biceps a woman could climb,

Oh My Brother, Katie Koumarianos

Bryant Literary Review

The rifle stands wedged into the ground

between standard issue combat boots

The Higher Faith, Elton Glaser

Bryant Literary Review

New Orleans, August 2005

When the floodwaters licked at our ankles

And wind prowled around the house,

Bravo, Lisa Starr

Bryant Literary Review

And when, at last,

September rolls around again,

there is a wild flurry among the leaves

Older Brother, Thomas A. West, Jr.

Bryant Literary Review

As a child I wondered

what the lobster saw in the last second

before it flopped twisting into boiling

Whistler's Mother, Lisa Starr

Bryant Literary Review

"Why I are you whistling?" I ask.

Have I been? He replies.

Is it annoying?

Into The Storm, Tatianna Williams

Bryant Literary Review

Olivia sits in the chair near the silent radio and reaches for her brush with a trembling hand.