Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 23/03/15

I wish I could say more than this but exciting times are afoot! The new issue is almost ready and we have some damn big announcements. Some of them you may already be aware of; Interviews with Michael R Perry and Jasika Nicole, some brilliant writing but there is much more than all of this! I just really want to tell you all but…

I know they are listening. I don’t know how but I know they are. There’s a vent just above the keyboard on my new laptop. I assume it’s for cooling the hardware but a couple of nights ago I started typing some of these secretive announcements and it glowed green. I stopped for a while but when I started again and got further, a strange hissing came from the vent followed by an odourless gas. I do not know what this gas was but I remember waking up a few hours later and everything I had typed was gone.

You see my dilemma now? I think the Bunbury gods are displeased with me.

Here is a poem.

The last time I saw his face

was through the smoke of a gun barrel,

red mist creating a perfect

rose-tinted moment.

It seemed everything else was tones of grey

and brown. His suit, perfectly

tailored except for the bullet-hole in the left

breast, was dark, monochromatically synchronised

with his shirt, shoes and tie. The glass of whiskey

left standing on his desk as he fell, inauspiciously

brown, save the light winking white through the crystal

and a few small red specks.

Yes, it was me. I loved him but I knew he would never be mine.

I couldn’t stand to see how he was with the others.

I couldn’t stand to see him as he was in that black-and-white still.

I wiped the colour from his face. I owed him that.

I wiped it from his face but then left some colour of my own.

A single passion-red kiss on his cheek,

to match both our broken hearts.

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