Prose

"Against Love" in Sweet Tree Review​ (August 2020)

Love and hate are part of the same delusion. An optical illusion. A way of seeing and re-seeing. You’re a master of this art. You plaster over the past, and then you scrape it off again. You shape everything into love and tear it down when the edges start to crumble. Your hands are raw. The room is ravaged. You’re alone again. What have you done?

"Eternal Return" in Entropy Magazine (May 2020)

How to make a house a home: Dress the walls with paintings and photographs. Furnish the rooms. Supply throw pillows and blankets. Plant around the facade. Make the kitchen clean and bright. Let the light in. The work endless and daily. So how could I blame a life I had relegated to an endless series of unpacking, the hands always moving, too busy to hold?