Published as “Changing Trains” in American Scholar:

Maybe it was the smell of slowing trains that drove my heartbeat up into my throat. The heating brakes, perhaps, the screams of steel-rimmed wheels, or the decelerating strobe of shadows cast by electric poles…

Published in The Common:

Sometimes red currants at the farmer’s market glow like dashboard warning lights, the sugar in my shopping basket drags on my arm like lead, and sweetness, beauty, danger taste the same….

Published in Terrain:

…Early on a sunny morning in May of 1945, a little girl stood at the western corner of a cobbled village square, staring, transfixed, at a group of animals and men. Some of the men were splashing in the fountain, naked…

Published in Vincent:

The bottle’s Emerald glass shines from the back of my grandmother’s kitchen counter, the fluid inside it crystal-clear, the label white, its print unreadable to four-year-old me. I stare at the bottle. My Opa Alfred has just put it down. The feeling in my stomach turns from thirst to queasy pain….

Published in Electric Literature

Each time Elfriede is hospitalized, my mother knows she’s forever behind those bars…

Published in Literary Hub

…There is her pencil, hovering, pouncing, picking away at punctuation marks, at faulty typography, but never, never straying toward faulty propaganda lines….