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.
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.
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?
the deepest part (Crab Fat Magazine)
Welcome, Death (riverSedge)
clawing for love (River and South Review)
the good life (Whiskey Island)
Small Surprises in a Berlin Church (VT Digger)
For the love of SUMMER (Times Argus)
Like A Dog Book Review (Lambda Literary)
Interview with Jess Arndt (Lambda Literary)