I will not tiptoe in glass slippers when I was made to run with the Sword of Shan Yu.


September 29, 2018

Bravery shifts and swirls, shouts and whispers

but bravery is bravery—

be it trembling from a voice in a courtroom

or sobbing beneath the covers, feeling the feelings of

acknowledging for the first time, yes that was rape

Bravery shrinks and grows, stretc...

September 26, 2018

I feel like I am in a good enough place today. I wish things were easier, but I’m thankful that they are not as bad as they used to be. Yet I’m still learning to accept that I can handle whatever place I’m in and ride the waves until the storm passes...

September 25, 2018

I am going to tell you my story. And I don’t want to tell you my story anymore than Christine Ford wants to tell hers. If it were up to me, I would go to my grave with these secrets. But these secrets were never mine to torment, to haunt, to keep. So...

September 23, 2018

I used to tell stories for prizes as I slid into the

skin of a new girl, already in character awaiting my turn

I listened to the other stories in my round and remember a girl

named Miracle who set herself on fire

to see if she was real—

Miracle, her chara...

September 23, 2018

Rain falls--tapping like cold chatters that creep through my

windowpane as thoughts

slip off my body, soaked

in the absence of thought 

September 23, 2018

Before I swallowed the pills

I matched a turquoise sweater

with pastel beads

because I wanted to die


But I got scared and called for

help when I started to lose my breath

Streetlights blurred

past a splintering headache that sawed
through my ribcage...

September 23, 2018

Sing, sing, I will sing

a song of a vineyard planted in fertile soil

yet it only yielded fruit that spoiled

when for ripe grapes I'd been waiting

Let me explain why your fruit has turned sour

the vineyard I have planted for goodness

yet my children yield o...

September 23, 2018

Layers of skin peeled away

by tentative trust—

I let you in

where you slurped my story

in one gulp

before walking away

without turning back

and I crawl across the earth

pasting a patchwork of lost skin


beneath, a spirit was beginning to emerge


September 23, 2018

There are things that make her forget

like staring blankly above and towards the wall

searching for a clock to tell time

--358 days of staring at the wall, one would think that at some point she would realize

that the digits stamping time are now ashes


September 23, 2018

He took his last breath in winter

after kissing her hand once more

she carefully chooses a tombstone engraved

Amado Esposo, Padre y Abuelo

that will be mounted in spring—

for now so naked, exposed

patches of dirt and snow melting

onto soggy drawings from gr...

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mommy, author, opera singer, daycare director, person


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