You’d walk with me to therapy. I’d constantly reassure you that I was capable of getting there alone. After all, the lady was kind. Her office, a couple blocks from campus, was decorated in comforting shades of purple. She diffused delicious essential oils (usually lemongrass, sometimes lavender), and the entire practice was situated at theContinue reading “CHURCH STREET”

Critical Moments of Convincing Faith

after Robert Hass What makes love matter lies at the atomic level, in matter itself.Daring graze on a quivering thigh, eager trace of the vertebrae, a slipped fabric please! then a sensation of holiness, guilty baptism, both of us glowing godlyin the ungodly. You clutch me and I hold back Amen, as if your actContinue reading “Critical Moments of Convincing Faith”


No part of us is dead. I encounter our characters in stumbled-upon places:  between the lines of the novel I’m reading (right now it’s Normal People— you’re Connell and I’m Marianne. It’s self-explanatory; you’d understand if you ever stumble upon a copy) and on the corner of Main Street where giddy couples on dates slamContinue reading “(US IN PRESENT TENSE)”

on intimacy

not of the bodily variety– our little deaths, lust so potentit glows from under skin and flickers– but the intimacyof ease. of sharing combs and toothbrushes, howeveraccidental, assimilating to the foul odors and mediocresex and intoxicated vomit stains on bedsheets, come undone in the presence of another, unwindingthe particulars of our histories and strippingContinue reading “on intimacy”

Eighth Wonder of the Apartment Kitchen

I keep thinking about the time I tried to convince you that substituting olive oil for the vegetable oil I had forgotten to toss into my grocery cart earlier that day would work perfectly fine for the recipe. It’s just oil, I shrugged. And ginger snaps are spicy enough to mask the difference, anyway. LeaningContinue reading “Eighth Wonder of the Apartment Kitchen”

If you didn’t hate me this is what I would tell you

I couldn’t stand the way you styled your hair. Saturated with drugstore putty, one dense clump of blond flopping against your sweaty forehead when you ran. It reeked of forced seduction. I couldn’t run my fingers through the strands without finishing with tacky palms. I hated that I began to associate love with the residueContinue reading “If you didn’t hate me this is what I would tell you”

Alexa, Delete “Complete Nervous Breakdown” From My Calendar

I’ve been meaning to properly freak out for years now. I’ve been putting it off since the first time it clicked, that cursed switch in my brain flipping on and off: Oh my god. I really am batsh-t, huh? I must’ve been nine or ten when I realized that the brutal cinema screen death IContinue reading “Alexa, Delete “Complete Nervous Breakdown” From My Calendar”