Creative Nonfiction

May 8, 2023

I studied the rustle of the stately rain tree when I couldn’t see the blackboard and knew Pollock’s Number 30 before I ever experienced autumn.

April 19, 2023

I don’t mind when men talk and talk; then I don’t have to do anything. They fall in love all by themselves.

March 22, 2023

Momma’s bones are broken in so many places that the images look like fins in their oceanic blue-black glow. She’s lost so much lately.

February 27, 2023

You, waking from dreams of dinosaurs, exploring deep in the ocean, worlds where Care Bears and Popples are real, listening.

February 20, 2023

You mutter “Fuck you” under your breath at his daily counting routine, for the apathy it shows for the hell the world is girdled in.

January 23, 2023

List To-Dos. Vent secret frustrations. Compose abominable poems. Dream impossible fantasies.

January 18, 2023

As our postcoital conversations pushed us further and further away from each other, I lounged in his bed, nibbling on a melting L or Q or F.

December 21, 2022

Frogs are thought to have a simplified version of our anatomy, which makes them all the more reasonable subjects for high school dissections.

December 9, 2022

What’s it like to die? To stop being. Gone in a moment, carried away on the wind. Does it hurt?

December 2, 2022

How a mother could be so? Why when she’s in the same room with me I feel swallowed up by a heavy coat pulling me down?