Letter from the Editor

Dear reader, 

As I write this, it is still pride month, albeit the tail end of it; I’m writing a little early this time around, since when you read this, I’ll be moving house. I hope nothing earth-shattering happens to the poetry world in the meantime!

I don’t know if this has been a universal experience, but pride month has felt a bit muted this year. Maybe it’s just a function of the fact that, at least here in the UK, the gorgeous weather of May gave way to a lot of rain in the front half of June, and judging by the weather notifications (more specifically, thunderstorm warnings) I’ve been getting for back home in Italy, the poor weather hasn’t been limited to this island that is so infamous for it. Perhaps the persistent rain has dampened (no pun intended) people’s celebratory spirits. The grey sky outside my office window right now certainly isn’t filling me with joy.

It’s more than that, though. At the beginning of the month, I decided to take pictures of as many pride flags as I could throughout June — if only for the sake of a fun Instagram post on July 1st. Yet the total contents of that folder are as follows:

• The handheld scanners at Sainsbury’s

• An energy drink sent to me by a friend while he was in Basel, Switzerland

• Kimi Antonelli’s helmet for the Formula 1 Monaco Grand Prix (though upon reflection I think this one might have been accidental).

Of course, there’s far more to Pride than flags put up as token gestures by businesses in the name of brand favourability; this is a symptom, not a cause. Perhaps the general feeling this year has something to do with the proliferation of laws around the world that restrict, rather than enshrine, the rights of LGBTQIA+ people. Perhaps it’s related to the fact that many governments have been actively opposing the celebration of pride this year. Perhaps it’s also got something to do with how gloomy the global political situation is in general at the moment.

But times like these are when we need pride the most. Whether that’s in public parades and being unashamed of one’s identity before the general populus, or in the safety of our homes rewatching the first season of Heartstopper because we just need a bit of queer joy right now. June might be over when you read this letter, but I hope we haven’t just decided as a society that pride month was a dud in 2026 and moved on. I hope we’re guarding our little fires still, fanning them into stronger flames. I hope July is a delightfully queer month for us all, and that maybe this edition might play a small role in that for you.

The poems in this edition speak to the present moment with concision and sublimely discerning clarity. They express that feeling of holding your breath, briefly unmoored from the flow of time and waiting for the clock to strike. They invite us to reflect on our relationships and our selves, both in pensive streams of consciousness and visionary metaphor. The poems published here, as well as the hundreds of others I had the pleasure of reading this edition, have been my Pride. This edition also features the inaugural publication of our new extratext category, in which Dalija Konstantinoviċ explores literary love stories that society hasn’t always accepted. The timing could not be better.

I should probably mention all submission categories are open right now for edition #006, or apologise to our European readers for jinxing the weather with my comments up top and causing the crazy heatwave that followed not two days after I wrote them, but what I really want to end on is this: whether or however you celebrate, happy belated pride month to you all. Show yourself some love for us all.

             ––  Allie, June 2026