I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of an On Route halfway between Windsor and London, eating a cup of Greek yogurt with a plastic knife. It did occur to me, as I scrambled to leave home in time to get to my 12:40 appointment, that I’d need something to eat. It did not occur to me that woman does not live on PB&J alone. Continue reading



I am trying to write a poem. I’m sure that’s terribly surprising.

I spent the last two weeks working on an essay, a memoir piece that attempts to juggle three different narratives until they cohere, each discrete section emerging as part of a whole. It was a difficult piece to write. Continue reading