PUBLISHED WORKS

“Mark on the Cross,” The Sun
WINNER OF A 2022 PUSHCART PRIZE
I was on Route 34 next to the undeveloped parcel of land Sallie referred to as “the woods on the way to town.” I’d never seen them from outside a car. Close up they were a tangle of vines and brush and layered leaves in a dun-gray shade of fear and defeat, speckled here and there with bright bits of styrofoam and foil wrappers and plastic grocery store bags caught on stubble. No one who matters is meant to view what’s viewable from the shoulder of Route 34.

“A Thousand Oranges,” Harvard Review
A great rage swept through me then, sulfurous in my mouth. I felt as though I might burst through my own skin, grow tumors or talons or great scales, bake like clay inside my clothes. I sat there, my back against the bathroom wall, the train rattling and rumbling around me, for it had begun to move again, and I pulled my coat into my mouth and I screamed into it.

"Mrs. Thorne,” Gulf Coast
Mrs. Thorne smiled. You're a slovenly old hermit woman with no friends, she told herself. That's what you are. This girl from Greenwich staring straight into your mess is exactly what you need.  To Mrs. Thorne's surprise, however, Alison turned to her and smiled her first genuine smile. "It's so nice here." 

 "Visiting Stolof," Indiana Review
He said he wanted to discuss my essay on Sappho. So I sat there in his office with Sappho on my lap. 'Like the very gods in my sight is he who sits where he can look in your eyes, who listens close to you, to hear the soft voice, its sweetness murmur in love...' The only things I seemed to belong to were words. They called to me as I hunkered down in the library. They called to me as Professor Stolof stood rooted at the blackboard with his back to us, staring up at a stanza he'd scrawled there, occasionally swiping at it with his stub of chalk... 

"The Birthday Present," The Sun
I remember her lying in the tub in that old barn, studying her pile of Audubon nature guides, a cigarette always burning in the porcelain ashtray nearby. She'd quiz me on wildflowers and ferns, the differences between mammals and reptiles, amphibians and birds. I remember how her long, dark nipples shocked me. She would not hide them...

"Seeing Moshe," The Seattle Review
WINNER OF THE BENTLEY PRIZE
He set his hand into the space between us and I took it. It was big and dry and warm. I'm touching the hand that touches Joan, I thought, unhelpfully. He took a step back as if in deference to our years together, and put his hands in his pockets, smiling not at me so much as upon me. He had a lot of hair on his head and a certain lankiness that made me feel the extra weight around my midriff...