Spring 2022

Letter from the Editor

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
– Adrienne Rich (1929-2012), poet and essayist

Small broken ice in a fjord

My first birthday after high school graduation, a friend took me to have my astrological chart done and to have my cards read by an intuitive who also was an amazing Shakespearan costume designer. We met in his costume studio. Theatre-major-me loved the beauty of the space and how the lush fabrics and costumes seemed to enclose us during the reading. 

He sighed, murmured hmmm, paused for quite a while, then explained that my chart was full of Water. Then he gave me a piece of advice that I draw upon whenever I need to believe a moment will not be forever and that change is possible. “Emotion,” he said, “is a deep pool. When you find yourself at the bottom of the pool, don’t be afraid to sit and be in it. You will resurface when you are ready.” I skimmed over his words, preferring to ask more about what I would do for a career. Completely unhelpful (but true), he said, “Many things.”

For years this watery-truth was something I dodged. But in 2019 after a week on the ocean on the way to Alaska, I wrote and later published a poem that was a little like the Odyssey about diving to the bottom of an ocean of grief as a way to begin mapping what happens next, what can still happen next. Seeing the blue ice early one morning on that trip, I physically understood diving into the wreck.

I didn’t finish that major – and I was so close – because there were wrecks I needed to explore. But I did go back to the theatre in graduate school because I am in love with stories in motion, the way bodies narrate where words fail, and how live performance provides the rehearsal and map for navigating the wrecks we are called to explore. 

Today in the Northern Hemisphere, it is the vernal equinox. It’s the return of what is known and a chance for the new. The editors have written outstanding letters about the writers and works that we are featuring in this issue. Every reading period I am moved by the exploration stories that come our way and please know that although we can only publish a fraction of them, we are grateful for the opportunity to read your words. 

On behalf of The Citron Review, thank you dear readers and writers for spending this time with us. We wish you happy reading and new explorations.

Warmly,

Angela M. Brommel
Editor-in-Chief
Poetry Editor
The Citron Review

Above Image: Photo by Angela M. Brommel, ENDICOTT ARM & DAWES GLACIER, ALASKA, May 2019

 

Masthead

 

Table of Contents

Poetry

Notes on the selections by Eric Steineger

Vogue Robinson
Juneteenth 2021  
Lucia Cherciu Immigrant Verbs  
Benjamin Truax Quadratic End (a golden shovel)  
Brandel France de Bravo Mind Slogan 34: Don’t Transfer the Ox’s Load to the Cow  
     
Creative Nonfiction

Notes on the selections by Ronit Plank

Amy Cipolla Barnes The Art of Brutalism  
James Morena
Like a Little Beach  
Amy Lyons Memories from a Handful of Months After My Mother Died  
Kristian O’Hare something about this silence feels holy  
Pavle Radonic Unfathomable  
Shifra Sharlin BUSTED!  
Luke Larkin Hunter  
Michael Fallon The Serpent  
     
Flash Fiction

Notes on the selections by Elizabeth De Arcos

Erin Armstrong
What Grows in the Garden  
Amber Wozniak Deer Feast  
Carisa Coburn Pineda Locked In, Locked Out  
     
Micros

Notes on the selections by JR Walsh

Jessica Khailo Runny Eggs Make Sunny Mornings  
Kip Knott  
Tracy Porch
Harvest  
Brandi Sperry Break  
Nancy Freund Gulls  
Yasmina Din Madden The Questions You Ask a Lost Child Now
 
Frenci Nguyen lunar  
Jasmine Sawers A Girl/A Witch/A Crone  
WA Hawkins The Wind, The Wind  
     

Sunflower

George Arents Collection, The New York Public Library. "Sunflower." The New York Public Library Digital Collections.

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