originally published in Feminine Collective The rib never fit And the apple had worms Fig leaves are for fools shaming the Triangle of life Caves sheltered as long as you brought Down your share, felled by points you Chiseled by the hour, in between Sewing skins and putting the baby To your breast— Migrations, snow,...
originally published in The Mark Literary Review He landed a good gig. Looking in on people’s homes would keep them in Aspen. The hikers were gone; the skiers yet to descend. Those in town now were there for the golden trees, and the occasional red and...
originally published in Women Writers, Women's Books Susan Cheever, daughter of the famous author, John Cheever, once said that fiction is not a competitive sport. Also a writer, living in the shadow of her father’s reputation and achievements can’t have been easy. I believe she made...
originally published in Wilde Boy two little circles below her elbow reach for her porcelain hand on different planes as if the arm had been held and gently turned - as if the one who touched his lit cigarette to her skin felt a bit of whimsy as he considered which spot to kiss...
originally published in O: JA&L As the rain got heavier, people moved inside. When the annual Art Walk was held in good weather, everyone stayed out and enjoyed the spring twilight. Last year’s mild temperature and clear skies meant poor sales. Tonight, just about every place...
originally published in The Slag Review More trees in the mountains went up, and the firelight was yellower than the day before. He called it the color of dry sand. The sun reddened, as if not in anger, but in grief. Who wouldn’t mourn? Homes lost,...
originally published in Writer's Digest We’ve all heard it said that readers have increasingly short attention spans. Spending time with a print medium isn’t as engaging as watching things move or interacting with content on a screen. Does this mean that we should write stories that...
originally published in Women Writers, Women's Books Literary fiction is a strange, yet compelling animal. So much emphasis on language, rhythm, imagery. And let’s not forget character. Some novels are all about the character and the mad world behind her eyes. When I started writing fiction, my...
originally published in New Pop Lit It was where movies stars used to go and rest up, be pampered, and consider the next script their agents had just sent over. A series of modest bungalows set around a beautiful turquoise pool. A pleasant young man in...
originally published in The Useless Degree & later included in the story collection, By The Wayside, published by Unsolicited Press Fiona was a mouse. Everyone said so. As a child she’d been bookish, lonely, with little to contribute conversation-wise. Her brother, Finn, was outgoing, popular, now the...