published poetry

creative writingAppeared in Pearl Fall/Winter 2010

I’m from eighteen year old bodies in the backseat of a borrowed car
I’m from homemade half pipes skated from 1980 to 1988

I’m from sponge curlers and aquanet hairspray

I’m from the wrong side of town and you looking at me, bitch

I’m from carnivals and bumper cars and 3 ticket ferris wheels

I’m from foreign parents and broken english

I’m from Catholic school uniforms and peace be with yous

I’m from my mother’s words

he is never going to change

he is not good enough

he is not he is not

I’m from girls in bathrooms and fingers down throats

I’m from I will always and you nevers

I’m from french kissing and second base

I’m from clothes in cardboard boxes in studio apartments and macaroni and cheese dinners

I’m from secrets scribbled in diaries

please forgive me

please forget me

I’m from name droppers with so and so and what’s his face

I’m from single mothers and cooking dinner for baby brothers

I’m from I love you I hate you I love you I hate you I love you I
Appeared in SLM 3.2, Fall 2009, The “Families” Issue
Her Side of the Bed

is cool
calming in the way

a mother’s hand feels

against a fever.

Her pillows smell like lavender,

a remedy to help her sleep.

She has tried warm milk

Chamomile teas in handmade mugs


the Rosary

whispered to the ceiling.
Sleeping pills provide

a few hours

of dreamless sleep,


in the darkness of her eyelids.
She prefers

the solitude of rest

to the company

of the stranger


on his side of the bed.

Appeared in Lexicon Polaroid

I’ve Worn my Mother’s Ashes

little pieces of her flesh

i’ve cried the same tears

and have bitten the same nails

she pushed her fears

into my lungs

guided her pain

down my throat

into my heart

and spread it through my bones