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
Day 1 First there is a punch. Then a knee to Lloyd’s ribs. His legs give out. Sharp fingernails hook his armpits. Drag him down a hall. He closes his eyes against the lights. Only glimpses the steel door as he is thrown past it. Within the cell is perfect darkness. Lloyd lies still. Catching his breath. Searching for serious injuries. His ribs ache but his breathing is smooth. The cold concrete floor soothes a swollen cheekbone. Miraculously, all his teeth are still in place. Toilet stench tells Lloyd to roll left. Onto a thin mattress with a pillow and blanket. Neither feels clean but Lloyd immediately falls asleep. Day 2 The caged bulb in the ceiling blazes. Forces Lloyd to wake. Confirm all assumptions about the cell. Steel door. Threadbare blanket. A second door was not, however, expected. In the wall opposite his bed. Wooden, with a doorknob. And the word NO burnt into it. With discomfort Lloyd stands. The cell is eight feet square. From its center he inspects the wooden door. For spy holes. Booby-traps. Acknowledges its perfect fit. No gaps for light or sound. Eyes the handle. Round. Do they think he is stupid? Go ahead. Open the door. Be free. How ridiculous. But Lloyd is curious. And already in prison. What more can they do? No hinges are visible. The door must open out. But into what? Another cell? Is someone next door? Lloyd knocks. No reply. He grabs the handle. A shutter in the steel door opens. Two eyes on the other side. Can you read? they ask. Lloyd steps back. Yes. What does it say? NO. What does it say? NO. The shutter in the steel door slams shut. & Day 3 Lloyd chews slowly. Methodically. To make his food last. Give his stomach the opportunity to feel full. It requires more concentration than he expected. But the distraction is welcome. The rest of the day all Lloyd does is stare at the word NO. Day 5 Lloyd does push-ups. Jogging on the spot. But with no windows, and only a tiny vent above the steel door, the air becomes too heavy to breathe. Day 6
From Volume 35
