The worms—it’s complicated. I don’t want to put that pressure on my lover, to become something he talks to his therapist about. But I feel them. The squirming, clammy draw of these things. The kind of feeling that makes you tear your fingernails. The kind that makes you send one too many text messages.

— “Late at Night, After He’s Fallen Asleep”

  • “To Unweave a Rainbow,” a short story, MLS Journal, forthcoming August 2018
  • Pulling Out,” a short story, Split Lip Magazine, Autumn 2017
  • This Is My Body,” a flash story/novel excerpt, Hobart, Summer 2017
  • The Feast,” a short story, Carve Magazine, Winter 2017

We took Emmaline on what promised to be a particularly stormy night. It wasn’t hard to do, especially since all the police and alarm company people were right there in the mob with us. Her mother, Rebecca, had to be restrained by five different people; the sheriff even had to lock her in a holding cell to keep her secured.

— “The Feast”

  • In the Oven,” a micro-story/novel excerpt, Prime Number Magazine, Summer 2017
  • “NoonTurn,” a short story, F(r)iction, Summer 2017
  • Key-holders,” a short story, poemmemoirstory (now called NELLE), Spring 2017
  • Chameleons,” a short story, Cold Mountain Review, Spring 2016

Ecstatic births are rare—all the books and websites say so—but Clara figured there wasn’t anything quite as rare as a grown woman giving birth to a baby octopus, so who was to say what was rare or common in her case? Who was to say that every human delivering an octopus wouldn’t get a little bit ecstatic?

— “Chameleons”

  • Zebra Skin,” a flash story, Fiction Southeast, Winter 2016
  • “Hyena, Hyena,” a short story, Jersey Devil Press, Autumn 2016
  • “Destiny,” a flash story, NANO Fiction, Autumn 2016
  • Girls with Blood in Their Veins,” a short story, Bartleby Snopes, Summer 2016 (also available in the final print issue, Spring 2017)

It was full-dark when I woke up shivering in the backyard. I stood outside the coop with no memory of how I got there. My nightgown rippled against me in the breeze and the grass was dewy on my bare ankles. I looked up and saw the moon beaming down at me. It looked a lot more like an egg than I ever remembered it looking before. A great celestial egg with light like a soul shining out from inside of it.

— “Girls with Blood in Their Veins”

  • “A State of Dismal Woe,” a short story, Zone 3, Autumn 2016
  • “The Soup,” a short story, Natural Bridge, Winter 2016
  • “Fried Roses for Dinner,” a flash story, Apeiron Review, Autumn 2016
  • The Spyglass,” a flash story, Cease, Cows, Spring 2016

It was a dark wooden thing with gold rings smiling around each of its subsections. Aunt Theo handled it with a gentleness that was almost reverent, before tucking it beneath her arm and slipping her pants down around her knees.

— “The Spyglass”

  • New Skin,” a short story, Menacing Hedge, Winter 2016


  • Currently untitled storybook, in collaboration with Jenna Bao, In-progress



  • A Baltimore haiku, Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku, Issue 37, Autumn 2016