Skip to content

Non-Fiction

An Ode to My Shadow

Do you remember that late afternoon when I saw you across the room? I do, you called to me from the Toronto motorcycle trade show floor with your lights and dashing flames.

Is This The Place?

The taxi drops me off in front of monumental Victorian gates of stone. The guard hands me a tourist map and
directs me to the genealogy office when I tell him I’m looking for family.

moon

Motherhood in the Plague Year

Sometime between the murder of George Floyd and the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett, I started to think about killing myself.

First Snow, Snowflakes

First Snow

Albert, our black lab, is scratching his large head, but the Yorkie, Biff, has not begun to stir. I stretch my hand along the sheets to touch George’s shoulder; his absence startles me. It has been six months. But for a moment, I had forgotten that he’s gone.

At the Airport Bubble

The bathroom medicine cabinet—It has been three weeks. This will be the easiest I think. It isn’t. I can’t stop the mist in my eyes as I toss everyday medicines left over from normal ailments, the healthy days, the pre-cancer days.

The Writing Prompt

“I never told anybody this, but…” These were the last words I remember writing at the Third Street Writers’ workshop. It was midmorning in February, two days before Valentine’s day.

CRISPR History, CRISPR Future

CRISPR technology lets us edit genes—targeting DNA at precise locations to replace harmful genes or limit their expression.

Brotherly Love

Hiding in the closet, as far back as possible, I wrap myself up in my grandmother’s beaver fur coat. The warmth envelops me, swaddling, calming me.