“He was rough with me that summer. The callouses on his hands made callouses on my hips. He didn’t bring gifts.”
-from “Gaylene” (unpublished)
“My friend Bug told me not to take gifts from a White man, that he’d be taking liberties with me in no time.”
Excerpt from “Bed Work” published in The Baltimore Review, October 2025.
“The porch rail has dried and cracked, and leaves a splinter in my hand. It’s all I’ll carry with me from here. I don’t know why it was so cold this morning, but I’m off to another dream, as this one has failed to thrive, and I will always build my home opposite the sun.”
Excerpt from “Fogbow” published in Flash Fiction Magazine, July 2024
“In the cemetery,Yuudai kisses me. He has hair as coarse as pine needles and broad shoulders that rake and haul and dig and plant. One arm wraps around me as we walk to the chapel where he drapes my panties across the velvet kneeler before his head sinks between my thighs. One day, my stomach growls.”
Excerpt from “Sweep” published in Atticus Review, February 2022
Thank you
Gracias
Terima Kasih
ありがとう
Þakka þér fyrir
Asante
Obrigado
謝謝
Merci
Danke
Tapadh leat
धन्यवाद।
