Browse Topics
Grief
The Second-Toughest Son Of A Bitch In East Gary, Indiana
He would have said, sometimes it’s not about the truth. Sometimes it’s about kindness. Especially when it comes to family.
April 2020
Sunbeams
March 2020My uncles . . . are farmers in Minooka, Illinois. I grew up with them and their pickup trucks and mustaches, and to me that was masculinity: big, hairy, sweaty guys who could pick up a bus.
Selected Poems
I returned home from work and stood / alone in the darkest / room in the house in my blouse / and skirt, barefoot.
— from “After He Left”
March 2020The Orange Appreciation Award
I keep a few backyard oranges mixed in with the baseballs in the bucket I take to practice. Every time one of my teammates peeks in, he’s like, “Oranges?” question mark, when it really ought to be “Oranges!” EXCLAMATION POINT!
March 2020
How It Ends
It begins like this: You drop your son off at kindergarten. His first day of school. You think that nothing in your life will be as big as this: the moment he drops your hand, he who has clung to you since birth, since that first breath of air, first scream, first frantic rooting for the breast.
March 2020
Recipe For Strawberry Bliss
Learn the word ennui. Resolve to do something meaningful with your life. Do something selfish and stupid instead. Go to prison.
March 2020Swimming Lessons
late into california’s indian summer you climb / onto your father’s back wrap your arms around his neck / and slide into the depths of your grandmother’s / pool
February 2020No One Dies Alone
I got the call around 2 AM. I’m surprised I even picked up. “Can you come in?” the voice said. I couldn’t say no. So here I am. Bedside. Hands folded. Lots of silence. Lots of time. Nothing to do but think.
February 2020
Train Songs
The breakfast rush was hitting its peak when we learned about the dead woman lying not far from Table Four.
February 2020
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