Hear me out, won’t you dear Citrons? For our mental and emotional health, poetry needs carnival barkers. And in equal fashion, poetry needs whisperers. There just isn’t one right way to encounter poetry, but a spectrum of ways for sharing our discoveries.

Such declarations lead me to wonder further, where do we fit in? Literary journals are continually reaching out to connect readers and writers with specific and new curated work, after all. But if a poem falls in the internet and no one’s there to read it, is it a (poe)tree?

The Citron Review has been incredibly lucky to have readers all over the world sharing their newfound favorites. As we navigate an increasingly post-Twitter literary space, it’s so exciting to collaborate with other journals (Looking at you, Smokelong Quarterly.) In recent days, I’ve seen shout outs on bluesky and we are looking forward to more work landing in wonderful year-end anthologies. Perhaps it’s learning that pieces in Citron are being explored in classrooms, which brings me the most joy. Watching students connect with poems when the tone hits them at the right moment, when the images bring feeling to life, when language guts us, and then seeing their own work capable of these feats continues to inspire me.

I’m ready to bark about the issue! The couplets of Sarah Wetzel’s “Many foxes are called an earth,” reveal a poem that is about poetry and life and nature – a kind of creation, but also a circle of life. It’s a transformation in progress and a seductive trap, we’re being drawn to a higher calling that will be full of danger, and yet it’s irresistible. Wetzel’s careful diction and unexpected line breaks make it so.

Michael Tyrell’s skinny poem, “Welcome Back” dazzles with repetition in a way that echoes our actual speech patterns. The dark humor of our absurd modern reality is on full display. Everyone has an opinion, even if we’re unsure where they come from anymore. I’m left wondering what have we become?

What will we become next Tuesday when we seek what we’ve lost and lose ourselves further in making art, in carving answers with negative space? Hana Damon-Tollenaere’s “Blockprint of Bad Timing” gives us a chance to find out. Hint: There may be blood.

Everyday is more like Sunday in Abby E. Murray’s “Saying Grace.” With the touch of a hand, by folding clothes, and ultimately seeking and finding the tastes we desire, this poem brings us tiny details of ” following holiness where it goes.” This poem gentle whisper lingers.

As U.S. Poet Laureate, Ada Limón is doing both whispering and barking. This week, I listened to her interview with The New York Times, where she is quoted as saying, “I think we’d all be better off if we encountered poetry on a regular basis, because it reminds us to feel, that we’re not supposed to numb out, that the weeping and the rage and the grief leads to feeling alive.”

As Limón makes an argument for seeking our own well-being through poetry. Not just a search for beauty, but a declaration of finding one’s self. By asserting our voices into a landscape that could steamroll us. Historically, when forces seek to erase the stories and experiences of people, it is often poets who find unique and creative ways to represent existence and truth. We, the poets, are representation. We the poets will make space and take space by acknowledging each other and the many ways we move in the world.

Whether you’re a barker, a whisperer or somewhere in between, I want to thank you for sharing your poetry via submission, thank you for reposting our writers online, and thank you for finding ways to create the poetry that makes us feel alive.

JR Walsh
Online Editor
The Citron Review