Winter 2015

Letter from the Editor

 

“Bloom where you are planted.”

These are the words on the front of the small 2016 calendar I just bought for one dollar at The Christmas Tree Shop.

What does it mean to be planted?

Right now, I am rooted in gratitude, for the people in my life, for our readers, our contributors, and our editors. I am writing from the corner of my couch, eager to share the Winter Issue of The Citron Review with you.

What does it mean to bloom, as a literary journal?

The Citron Review is looking for folks who might help us answer this question — As in, we’re hoping that there might be some of you who’d like to get involved with us in a more intimate way. Hoping to become an editor? Love WordPress and social media? Email us at citronreview@gmail.com. Tell us about you and what you might like to do. And while we were founded by a group of Antioch MFA students, we would love to hear from anyone, anywhere. A love of words is the only requirement (and yes, the willingness to volunteer).

I’m looking forward to watching The Citron Review grow in new ways, and to that end, I am going to step aside in the Spring. We’re thinking about how to best care for this journal, and what it might look like in full blossom. It seems like it’s also a good time to make room for new hands.

Bloom where you are planted.

It might be a lofty statement. For now, I think that the poetry, fiction, and non fiction here in our Winter Issue might offer an answer — at least for today, where we are right now.


Thank you for reading.

Warmest wishes,

Jacqui Morton
Managing Editor

 

Table of Contents

 

Katherine Bonnie Bailey Sounds of the City Micro Fiction
Stephen D. Gibson Ordinarily Sacred Micro Fiction
Nod Ghosh Harborne High Street CNF
Chris J. Rice The Way CNF
Leanne Simpson Missiles CNF
Ann Tinkham The Tree of Hearts CNF
Ben East Confirmation Flash Fiction
Jennifer Fliss The Best Thing for the Baby Flash Fiction
 Derek Graf  Something Lasting  Poetry
 Alec Hershman  As Far as Hawks Go  Poetry

 

Gail Langstroth  I Saw My Soul Become Poetry
Gail Langstroth 11 am Walking Down Forbes Poetry
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