Quiet with the Hurt (Mary C Mohr Nonfiction Award, Southern Indiana Review)

She purses her lips, then shows me a picture of her and her father walking down the aisle. Her hair is much longer than normal, curled to the side. Her dress is strapless, and I can see the ridge of her cleavage at the top. She’s gorgeous. Perfect, and not mine. I sit there, staring at the picture, quiet with the hurt. I take it full on, hoping that will make it settle somehow.  

when I stopped fearing ghosts (The Florida Review)

We slogged through swamps, heavily forested areas where the heat bugs hissed so loud, I could barely hear when she called to me. We went all over the state—Mansfield, Baton Rouge, Grand Chenier. We stayed with friends in between, drinking sweet tea and eating collard greens, cornbread slathered with slices of cold butter. 

Fearful Symmetry – Coal Hill Review

Part of me thinks that if Louise Hay ever met Mulder, she would be enchanted by his ability to create his own reality. Mulder believes in otherworldly magic. He believes a woman is psychically linked to a kidnapped child, feeling her feelings, the sensations she’s experiencing. He believes a hungry swarm of cockroaches is actually a group of tiny, malicious robots, that souls can switch bodies, that ghosts can trap the living in an old mansion for Christmas.

rush of longing – Rappahannock Review (and accompanying interview)

I lean back in my seat, pressing closer to the window. I feel, like I often do with this group, like I have no place in this conversation. I love children, but I never pictured myself birthing one. When I was younger, I knew there were plenty of kids who might need fostering or adopting. But it’s been years since I let myself think about that possibility. 

pockets and corners (The Coachella Review)

I smile. People have been asking me questions like this for three years now, since I came out. At first, I jumped at the opportunity to finally discuss the people I wanted to discuss, to be open about things. But now when people ask, I smile and change the subject. I’m not even good at being gay. What could I tell them?

Dear Gram (treehouse)

the deepest part (Crab Fat Magazine)

Welcome, Death (riverSedge)

clawing for love (River and South Review)

the good life (Whiskey Island)


Medium Blogs

Writing – Pride – Cicadas (Carve Magazine)

25 Blogs for 25 Weeks (Creative Pinellas)