The Slowdown w/ Tracy K. Smith   πŸ”Šβ€“ β€œThere’s no one left to see his hands/lifting from the engine bay…”
NEA Writers' Corner – "He has stateΒ­-sponsored cell phone minutes/and a camo jacket hung on the sideview to dry."
         +   πŸ”Š via New England Review // Bread Loaf Writers' Conference here.
Narrative – "The details always the same./Salt wind tearing at his jacket./Bootheels dug deep//in the chainlink."
New England Review – "Mike pins me to the sink, forearm/levered against my throat..."
Gulf Coast – "The receptionist holds up/a small paper bag/stapled shut. Whatever/you had worth saving."
Blackbird – "Mornings I'd take back what was mine/and each night more would go missing..."
Adroit   πŸ”Š – "I mean/when I lift Noah, half-asleep,/to my chest and turn//for home."
The Cortland Review   πŸ”Š – "When Charlie pulls the Colorado over/and tells me to fuck off..."
Bat City Review – "He pinches the j between his first two fingers squints an eye against the ribbon of smoke..."