Grandmother Returns to the Foot of My Bed
"Grandmother returns to the foot / of my bed and places hot breath / on the bridge of my nose. She delivers / god, pleasure, and pain as prayer"
• AMPLIFY: An Anthology Celebrating Poets of Color (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions), August 2026
Carcinization
"Recently I learned that everything becomes / a crab or a tree and I want to feel / my bones, stiff, my skin, rough, / dry, sharp, and one hundred years old"
• Stone Circle Review, July 2026
Skeleton
"The addicts’ high surrenders to the realities of romance on which it balances as though feather-light,"
• Locust Review #13: Lucky 13, February 2026
Camp
"I could hear / the wind but I / couldn’t / feel it."
• miniMAG #188: farm elegy, February 2026
Niña, Hundida
"Late afternoon brings / A new lover / Out of the sea / On hands and knees"
"Haunting and cinematic. The sea imagery merged with human intimacy feels mythic and carefully-chosen." —Erwin Arroyo, The Poetry Lighthouse
• The Poetry Lighthouse, December 2025
Much More
"lately I've been thinking a lot / about cannibalism / about the crunching, ripping, slobbering / sucking, licking, absorbing"
"This poem is so raw and darkly playful." —Erwin Arroyo, The Poetry Lighthouse
• The Poetry Lighthouse, December 2025
Medicine Woman
"birthed unto this terrible earth / in a quiet surrender best met with stone / she sinks her toes into solid land / and listens for reflected revelation"
"Earthy, sacred, strong and tactile, with that mythic weight of a timeless figure who's both divine and human." —Erwin Arroyo, The Poetry Lighthouse
• The Poetry Lighthouse, December 2025
Beesting
"you are / at the bottom of a well in / august / you are / the milk and honey found through exit wounds of / august"
• The Poetry Lighthouse, December 2025
Try Again Tomorrow
"Your brain needs to be watered / it’s as dry as your bones / your bones are aching / and you can’t lift a finger"
• miniMAG #181: various rabbit holes, December 2025
Seedling
"if I were to write the form of the apple, / I would write how / the vibration of earth makes room for life / how dark seeds are freckles, rocks, and ladybugs"
• Plant People: An Anthology of Environmental Artists, Vol. 5 (Plants & Poetry Journal), September 2025
The Porthole
"lowering itself onto a nose / a star flattens out / becomes skin / and slips into the eye of an ancestor"
• West Trestle Review, September 2025
Our Way Out Is Closing with the Tides
"frigidly warm as your fingertips allow / etching a masterpiece into my still-beating throat / melt into me and let me destroy"
• redrosethorns journal, March 2025
Littlest, It’s Been Too Long
"You fall from mother’s roof, her roots / wrap around your waist / and tickle your hips with split ends, / burnt outlines and dried up scents"
• redrosethorns journal, March 2025
Hear the Cracking of My Bones Becoming Yours
"raised from the dead by your voice / see the ants through your eyes / and feel the earth with your hands"
• Fright, February 2025
Your Body Belongs to You, a Stranger
"your purpling skin / grows around and down / through the floor and below"
• Fright, February 2025
Shortly I Shall Depart
"sometime, something / awoke you in the night / you stared at its skin / with a venom you couldn’t place"
• Fright, February 2025
A Place to Stay
"lashing out at vacant emissaries / slipping through my every vein / weighing down while rising up / at once, you burrow"
• Coffin Bell #7.4: Queer, Feminist, & BIPOC Gothic, October 2024
• The Yesterday Review #2: Our Dead Behind Us, December 2025
Tunneling
"She feels a stranger, / walking the halls of a home she / does not own. She feels a stranger, / sleeping between the sheets of / a bed that is not hers."
"A wonderfully macabre portrait of longing, loneliness, the other, and deliciously twisted paranoia." —Sheeks Bhattacharjee, Vocivia Magazine
• Vocivia Magazine #5: Nightmares & Daydreams, July 2024
The Poetess
"In the hushed moments / In a world of wonder / In the vivid hues of day / In a gentle surrender"
• Tiger Leaping Review #1, December 2023