The Story of an Hour

There would be no one to live for; she would live for herself.

The Stylist

Her bra is black, her breasts full and white. There is too much flesh.

The Traveler’s Story of a Terribly Strange Bed

We were young and lived wild lives in the delightful city of our sojourn.

Things on Which I’ve Stumbled

Things That Don’t Keep a Lightning Bug Alive

Where my mom was wasn’t never far from the Myrtle Beach Days Inn.

Thinking It Through

His mother wasn’t there to meet him at his stop. She never was.

This Is Not a Christmas Story

There was a shout, then a shot fired. I pressed the shutter again and again.

Three Poems

My mother is queen of buttons. She shows off the prized ones.

Three Poems

I love it—watching gray light bleed out over the makeshift bed on the floor.

Three Poems

Let’s walk down to the river, bless the paper boats and turn it all into wine.

Three Stages of Amazement

Charlie wasn’t Lena’s first love, but he counted on being her last.

Three Stories

I tell my sister what I didn’t tell my father, I love you. Please, don’t die.

To the Dirt Which in Time Will Consume Us All

I love scientists. They’re trying their hardest. And they just want love.

Top Dog

“The kiels take extra time, but then you know your meats. Questions?”


It is the night of whores and monsters, but without the killings.


Neither fame nor wealth could provide consolation for life’s brevity.

Two Girls Bathing and Other Poems

She wears her nakedness like it has been woven from air.

Two Poems

Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.

Two Poems

I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.

Two Poems

I slept but never dreamed there. Nor did I feel the need to court a god.

Type A

My first true love was Underwood, my mother’s typewriter.

Untitled (Woman Brushing Hair)

She takes her hand to my scalp: eyes close as if tasting lemon cake.

Up Country

Tanya jokes that she comes to the East Coast now only for funerals.

War Widow

You smile into the phone static, the breath of your beloved.

Washed Away

The future was spread out for us to go in any direction we wanted.

We Are What We Have Lost

Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.

We Named Our Dogs After Liquor

You live in this country, you put up bars, you train your dogs to snarl.


I miss sex. I really liked it, and I was good at it, if I do say so myself.

What Would You Have Me Do?

We’d never had a cross word, but I’d never corrected him.

White Fish

There isn’t a nice Jewish boy in sight—not that I’m looking for one.