Current Issue · Numbers 1 & 2 · 2025
The editors are proud to share the work in Volume 45 of The Worcester Review, which features 35 poems and 10 pieces of fiction. The feature section highlights Worcester’s long poetic legacy, with scholarly essays on six Worcester poets alongside brand-new poems inspired by the places and people of the city’s literary past. You can also find winners of the Frank O’Hara Prize and the WCPA College Poetry Contest.
December 18, 2025
Volume 45 of The Worcester Review is on its way to contributors and subscribers. The editors are proud to share the work in this issue, which features 35 poems and 10 pieces of fiction. The feature section highlights Worcester’s long poetic legacy, with scholarly…
December 7, 2023
The Worcester Review is delighted to announce its 2023 nominations for the Pushcart Prize, all of which appear in Volume 44. Poetry “Connective Tissue” by Rae Gouirand “rabbit” by Kathleen Hellen “curriculum development” by Matthew E. Henry “unplug the microwave”…
October 3, 2023
Volume 44 of The Worcester Review is on its way to contributors and subscribers. The editors are very proud to share the work in this issue–including the review’s first all-flash fiction section, a feature folio of writing by Clemente students,…
From the Archives
Lillian stood in the dark hallway, her bare feet sinking into the thick hush of the carpet. At the far end of the hall chilly light was seeping out from under the door to her mother’s room. To her right, a warmer glow came from her sister’s door, along with the muted buzzing of music. Lillian shifted from side to side a few times, then took a deep breath and went right. The dark rippled out behind her like a train. She opened the door slowly, without knocking. Andrea looked up from her textbook and pulled off her headphones. “What’s up, bug? Can’t sleep?” Lillian nodded. “Well, I can’t calculate this p-value. Want to trade?” Lillian hung onto the doorknob and pitched back and forth, into the golden light of her sister’s room, then back into the yawning dark. “Don’t pull on that, it’ll come loose. Do you want a story? Is Mom asleep?” Lillian leaned back into the shadow. She shrugged. “Well, I could use a break.” Andrea pushed her book aside and steered Lillian back to her own room. The butterfly nightlight on the wall glowed gently; the pink butterfly sheets lay tangled at the foot of the bed; the real butterflies in the glass case that hung over the desk rested quietly beneath their pins. Lillian climbed into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin.
From Volume 43
