Recent publications

 
 
pink peach blossoms, dark sky in background
 

Second Thoughts

Fiction. Issue 4, April 2025. Gramercy Review.

EXCERPT
Friends take off for grad school. I pack the silky nighty and my father’s cardigan and my books, rent a tiny room in a big city, type up obituaries and classifieds as the months bleed away. Mother reminds me that she was married by age 23, pregnant by 25. Go haunt your own house, I tell her, but the liminality of ghostliness affords her a presence in the home of every life she’s touched.

 

REunion on the St. Joe

Fiction. Unearthed.

EXCERPT
This road along the river isn’t the fastest route from Montana to the dry side of Washington, but she hasn’t crossed through here in years, and an opportunity to nose along unburdened by backseat questions should never, she believes, go unexplored. She pulls over, has a mind to go down and sit on the sandbar and do some remembering, but when she steps out, there’s a stillness that pins her to the door. It’s evening, and there should be birds, and the shushing noise the upriver wind makes in the trees. But it is quiet. …

 

Beneath Her Breath

Fiction. Spring 2022, The Hopper.

EXCERPT
Up the canyon’s walls, colors have bleached to pastel in the late summer heat. Oxidized feldspar forks through the granite, lightning streaks dulled a faint orange. Lichen, paled from neon to lime, lift their brittle edges to find and cup moisture. What few trees and brush root out a teetering existence on the cliff faces wear skins of ash and dust. Even the surface of the river, all soft curves to the canyon’s sharp angles, soaks up these muted tones, reflecting sky grainy and matte with smoke….

 

Betweenness

Nonfiction. Vol. 4, 2022, Deep Wild Journal.

EXCERPT
As humans, many of us eventually migrate into cities and suburbs. But I wonder if, like salmon, we haven’t evolved beyond feeling the pull to return to wild places, even if the place we migrate to isn’t one we stay 110 DEEP WILD: Writing from the Backcountry in—that it’s a betweenness, like the ocean for the sea-going salmon. That our journey isn’t stationary, that we have to travel to wild places—rivers, feeder creeks, the ocean.