Updates: Issue / Nominations | Mid 2019


Hello, dear readers, writers and contributors,

It was in mid March — only a little over three months before now — that we began accepting submissions for the fourth issue of Bold + Italic. The entry of genres picked up wonderful pace initially and during the time that numbers were gradually surpassing each previous number, we added to our positivity by nominating some poems for Best Indian Poetry 2019, those being:

• Time Warp, Simran Keshwani

• A Whiff of Spice, Uma Venkatraman

• Black, Divya Devarajan

• A Rube Goldberg Day, Aditya Shankar

We moved further, wrote to each of our nominees and congratulated them. And all this time, on the other side of the road, numerous submissions kept appearing each day, made it to our door: some came in and had to leave even though we wanted them to stay; some stayed a little longer, took tea; some, some more tea; and there were others that never left and happily added up as family. — One is those was Monica Lewis’ humorous THE MOST GOLDEN TICKET, alongside David Appelbaum’s the bicycle man.

All of this did keep us quite busy — and the very added up family now appears as our Issue 04, with artwork by Jeremy Nathan Marks and Anne Casey as our featured poet this time.

It is a wonderful issue — has been compiled to be one — and while we plan to send a set of poems and fiction we published as nominations for Best of the Net this year, please take some time to go through it. It won’t be a time ‘wasted’!

Also, before we leave, we’re still open to creative nonfiction submissions and those of art; however, for the fifth issue, we are also soliciting some of our favourite writers for their wonderful works.

Stay tuned,


Lisa, Kat & Jayant

Monica Lewis — 2 Poems


how w(e)omen are born

they say we are born,
a finite fistful of eggs,
and what about
the shells?

i am all shell, tender and crooked,
cracks tracing
the lifelines lived in the palm

of your hand, and
fingers splayed, branching

little dirt roads
going neither
nor there.

green-skinned, i grow
both wishing i were

you take,
but i am seedless.

perhaps if planted
the pit
would take root,
to bloom, and we could
kiss, again,

like seventeen,
like endless.



lick an orange, it tastes like an orange. the strawberries taste like strawberries! the snozzberries taste like snozzberries!
whoever heard of a snozzberry?
the poem should end there because for one,
you should, by now, know
a damn snozzberry, tastes like a snozzberry an
orange, duh, but
still, you wanted
still, two everlasting
there is the death of love.
your already full and gorgeous gut
even if hearts had pits you’d
not spew
a single one out.

Monica Lewis

Monica Lewis lives in Brooklyn, New York and holds an MFA from Columbia University School of the Arts. Both her fiction and nonfiction have appeared or are forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, The JFR, and AAWW’s The Margins, and her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Cosmonauts Avenue, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, FIVE:ONE, The Boiler Journal, PUBLIC POOL, Yes, Poetry, and Flapperhouse, among others. She is a VONAoVoices alumna, and a 2017 and 2018 ‘Best of the Net’ poetry nominee. Her full collection of poetry will be published in 2019 by Unknown Press.

More of her work:

I’ll Be at Your Altar, Yes, Poetry

A Future You, the Shade Journal