This issue is starting to become something. There is a silhouette of sorts. We’re anxious, of course – the twenty debutantes all a-tremble at the top of the stairs, rehearsing a coy batting of the lashes – but we can see it’s outline against the horizon.
It will take the shape of your mouth when you say your mother’s name.
It will take the shape of the box of things he returned to you, have the architecture of a living room fort, and will bear a striking resemblance to the morning after. It might also be built like the water in the glass at your bedside, but that really depends on the lighting.
We have gotten a great selection of submissions, but we’d like a whole lot more. See, the issue takes shape with its contents. I can’t build it or give it a name without you.
The deadline is drawing nigh – January 31st – to get your poems in. There is no limit on the number of poems you can send, but they must follow our submission guidelines (see current issues section). Ten lines on the theme “warnings”, no attachments please, to email@example.com.