i can too easily see myself in sepia—
toes reaching for the dirt,
empty eyes reflecting the sun,
my neck stretched out to greet heaven—
i’ve never been taller.
This poem is extremely personal to me, and so I was very careful about the lit mags that I submitted it to this past winter. Charles Rammelkamp, the editor in chief of The Potomac, accepted it within a day of reading the poem. Such an enthusiastic response is always great to hear, and so I am happy to share this piece with you all thanks to Mr. Rammelkamp and the staff at The Potomac.
The Alvearie 