I’m making a pasta dish, something I did when I was a mother of a living child. It’s the first time I’ve cooked pasta since my daughter died four years ago, age...
Every Saturday morning the ones living in containers flocked out from their metallic rectangular homes to see what the service van had brought for them. The van...
In a pot in my bedside cabinet are fragments of skull.
My skull.
Shards of off-white bone, too many and too shattered to ever fit back together. Many have...
Winner of the CNF Competition 2018
I was thinking about heartbreak the day before it came. You forget it when it eases. You remember the things that led up t...
I’m in third grade, crooked teeth and crooked bangs. My mother, a nurse, works nights so she can be home to greet me and my siblings when we return from school....
