Recent work

Heart

I wanted the worst diagnosis for him, or no diagnosis at all. Nothing to muddle the decision.

I admitted this to Martha months later, my voice low and ashamed—if our unborn sonhad to be sick, I wanted the sickness to be bad. We’d found out something was wrong at the twenty-week ultrasound, the OB walking briskly into the unlit room, looking at the temporarily black monitor, staring through a glass darkly. She took the ultrasound wand, guided it over Martha’s naked abdomen, summoned the gray pulpy image of our developing child, curled asleep, and said, “There is something wrong with the heart of this baby.”

Short fiction

Spring 2023

Right Ascension, Declination

GRACE REAPPEARED ONE NIGHT IN September during a blizzard. An arctic current had looped south, as far as where we were in Colorado, the beginning, perhaps, of a climate realignment; the storm arrived so early in the season that oaks and maples hadn’t yet lost their leaves, their branches weighted now with a new burden of snow.

Short fiction

Spring 2022

Cover image of ZYZZYVA No. 122 Winter 2021, The Inter/Transnational Issue

Snake & Submarine

Not long ago, a friend in California—call her Esmé—became severely ill with a rare and rapidly progressing cancer, and has been posting updates about her condition on a medical blog, which appears on my Facebook feed.

Short fiction

December 2021

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Bullfrogs

He and his wife continued not in silence, but in something worse than silence. Pleasantries and logistics, the studied, uninflected decorum of strangers.

Short Fiction

October 2021

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Happy Jack

When it was too much to be alone, and when dreams of my father stormed my mind; when I felt the hot guilt of failure, imagined that sad way my mother sometimes looked at me, like she knew more about me than I knew about myself—I would call Katya up and go over to her place and find a little company. 

Short fiction

September 2, 2020

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Loss and New Life Life in the Time of Covid

Anna is pregnant again, and with a girl. I can feel my daughter through Anna’s skin—the future pressing into the present—squirms and kicks that protrude across her distended belly. It feels like last time, she tells me. Similar sensations.

Personal Essay

May 21, 2020

Past work in Vice News, GOOD, etc.