Poetry
dread
Some time ago, I woke from a dream in which I had gone missing. Over the course of the ensuing sunlit hours, I could not rid myself of the overwhelming feeling that everyone around me was somehow overlooking my presence.
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Poetry
Poetry
Awakening
Fairy tales approach revenge in such interesting ways—there is often a sense of catharsis and ordering the universe in these acts, especially since they tend to appear at the story’s conclusion. I wanted to write a horror poem with a sense of ambiguity about what happened so that the focus becomes the process of self-creation through revenge.
Poetry
when you see the dead
I’ve often worked in natural history collections where it was my job to convert roadkill into museum specimens. So everyone who knew me (my sister, romantic partner, friends) would enthusiastically text me about dead animals they found!
Poetry
A Trick of the Night’s Hunger
he poem was inspired by the unending struggle of the world and its continuous demand in our blood, where we must keep striving to stay afloat. In the last part of the poem, I demonstrated how at that point I was okay with much the world has to offer me, and was willing to not keep spending my blood.
Poetry
Tropical Fish
“Tropical Fish” is a relic from my childhood and mostly true. I had an aquarium in my bedroom, and my dad and I spent a lot of time staring at those fish.
Poetry
Why Are You Haunted?
I first wrote this poem back in 2020. I’ve been a lifelong fan of horror and was helping a friend start to get to know the genre. One of our conversations centered on just how many different ways a horror character can be haunted, and thus this poem was born.
Poetry
Bog Girls
I was inspired to write this poem after a day of birdwatching at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge with my husband and oldest daughter. As a fan of Karen Russell’s short fiction, I love her story “The Bog Girl.” Though this poem is not about that story, I am intrigued by the idea of being preserved by the natural world to be observed and wondered about after death.
Poetry
We Are Always Walking on Dead Things
There is so much we don’t know. I’ve often stood in ankle-high grass wondering what lay deep beneath my feet . . . and what lay beneath that . . . and beneath that. This poem is my way of exploring history, legacy, and inevitability.
Poetry
Alternate Rooms
“Alternate Rooms” was inspired by the duality of the perception of my being. At the tail end of my struggle begins a parallel eventide of my escape which is mostly a surrealistic beauty that springs out from my ruins.
Poetry
When At Last He Was Empty
I can’t recall the precise moment of inspiration that spawned this poem, but it’s a merger of two unsettling notions taken to terrible extremes. The first is the helplessness experienced while vomiting and the awful thought I’ve had in mid-spew: “What happens if this heaving doesn’t stop?” Second, the realization while browsing treasures at estate sales: “One day, the evidence of my life, too, will be laid out on display, labelled and bargain-priced.”
