Poetry
Fire in Paradise
" My father and I started talking about making a split collection of poetry together shortly before the pandemic began. And then he was hospitalized with Covid-19, and we all watched the world change. Together. Separately. It was then that I began to understand how important it was to share our voices in the same collection, to be read together. To not only write with him in the room, but to explicitly invite him in. To make something beautiful out of our conversation. To suffer together. To learn together. To dream of a better world.”
-From the Introduction
Available for order through Codhill Press.
The First Winter and other Poems
Some mornings I have to remind myself that it will all grow back,
no matter how unlikely that seems. The grass is browning
under a layer of alternating melting and icing snow ...
Essays
Flock of Peculiar Birds
"At Camp Chinqueka, my best friends called me Graceful Swan. Graceful, for my real middle name, Bayou-Grace, as well as my propensity for tripping, stumbling, and otherwise flailing about our all-girls summer camp in rural Connecticut. And Swan because we were all hoping I wasn’t a duck..."
Hope
" Recently, I was gathering myself together to write a poem that I knew would be difficult, both in terms of craft and terms of heart, and I was really taking my time about it. I was just standing there in the doorway of the living room, scanning the room for any possible thing I might need in the next few hours: tea, a blanket, snacks, an extra book, inhaler, laptop, headphones, candle, maybe a totem, maybe something to fidget with. Finally, I resigned to the need, and wished my husband goodbye. He responded with, have fun..."
