We want works that are on the verge of breaking, pieces that are bloated with experience, the ashes on your fingertips, the caverns between your cavities, the kneecaps bruised with jasmine tea. Tell us what it feels like when you first bite into your best friend’s grief, what you do when you outgrow your childhood sandals, where your brother goes at night with his lips stained orange. Let us catch the last words he indents on your cheek, the promises that hover just above the skyline, cawing away like crows.(A little off-topic, but isn't that breathtaking?)
I highly encourage you to browse the rest of the issues they have archived on the Glass Kite Anthology website, as well as the issue I'm in:
This issue contains houses that occupy space in different ways, faeries, fresh perspectives on Greek mythology, biblical verses, love and lack of love, thirst, and a plethora of hands.