Poetry + Creative Works

NOTE: All work titles are hyperlinked to their original postings, unless otherwise specified.

The Dillydoun Review

Cocaine

Poem

I came home to find her
in my bedroom, her long shadow
flickering across the lamplight,
bent over a small table in the corner.

Daily Drunk Mag

Food Insecurity I

Poem

My hamburger falls to the floor,
our once-red carpet, now brown.

Button Eye Review

Rewind

Poem

Magical movies & sci-fi stories warn against
time travel, claiming butterflies have it out
for us. I’m supposed to say, Everything
happens for a reason & God’s will be done.

The Closed Eye Open – Maya’s Micros

To Know, in the Biblical Sense

Poem: “May 2021, Batch 017: 05/12/21”

I have forgotten how to pray.
When I get on my knees, my mouth
is otherwise occupied, wide, a serpent

Vocal Contest Submission

Francesca Foote

Short Story

This story was a submission to the Moleskin contest. I’m not partial to fiction, but this story came to me, fully formed, while I was driving around in my car, and I raced home to get it all down. Needless to say, this did not win the contest, but I’m particularly fond of it, so I wanted to share it here too.

I consider this for a moment: young women scantily clad and young men who will pay to see them nearly (but not quite) nude. When I was younger, I suspect if the internet had been what it is now that I may have considered this. It could have supported my journalism habit. Although, of course, Sarah never would have agreed to it.

Door Is a Jar

Red

Micro-CNF

Lying with her on her bed, her smooth shoulders still speckled with shower spray, soothes me like warm soup on a sore throat, an elixir.

Cathexis Northwest Press

Blind Light

The first poem in a break-up series.

Sunlight strips the blinds & casts them aside.

It’s the morning after.

In this blind light, his pupils make room for blue

eris & eros

A Collection of Pieces from “Trailer Trash”

Poems: Red Light; Lessons on Womanhood; We Play Detective, Not Doctor

Today we find it:
a pair of little girl’s
panties — hanging
on a branch in the woods.

Excerpt from “We Play Detective, Not Doctor”

These pieces are part of a collection I’m writing called Trailer Trash. They’re about growing up in extreme poverty with a single mom with mental illness. When I write about my past, it’s important for me to go back there and write from that place instead of from this present, all-knowing-narrator voice. That’s why all three poems are written from the perspective of a child — I was a child when these things happened to me.

Flash Flood

Black Snow

Short Story

They took you away this morning, meine liebe, my love. They said you were too sick to work, unfit, unessential. And I didn’t know at the time. I didn’t know where they would take you or what they would do to you, but I knew you would not come back.

Forthcoming Works

  • “Anxious Attachment” & “Catching,” poems, in Quiet Lightning (RSVP!)
  • “Turning Point,” poem, in Drunk Monkeys
  • “Never,” creative nonfiction, in Sunspot Lit
  • “Self Portrait,” poem, in Prometheus Dreaming

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