by Julia Griffin

“We do not hold preference for any particular style or topic—we simply seek the best poem we can find. Send us work that is blister, that is color, that strikes hot the urge to live and be. We strongly invite poets from all communities. You, & your words, are welcome here.”
—Frontier Poetry, announcing a New Poets competition

Is it blister? Is it color,
Striking hot the urge to be?
Or, by contrast, is it duller
Than a tepid mug of tea?
Is its color hot Venetian
With a dash of desert red,
Or, instead, like tofu quiche: an
Uninspiring shade of shed?
Is it blister? Is it splinter?
Does it master and suffuse?
Is it really more akin to
Some extremely minor bruise?
If it’s blister, ’twill be bliss to
Crown you best of singing birds!
If it’s not, forget it, mister.
You’re not welcome, nor your words.