A former children's librarian who writes for both children and adults, her work has appeared in The Madison Review, The Montserrat Review, Chicago's Midway Review, Great River Review, Wisconsin Academy Review, and other journals and magazines. She has two chapbooks of poetry. She spends her time writing, reading, splashing around with watercolors and drifting from coffeehouse to coffeehouse in the Madison area. Although now that she's given up coffee, perhaps she should say teahouse to teahouse? Garrison Keillor has twice read poetry of hers on his WPR Program The Writer's Almanac. Some of her favorite writers include Billy Collins, Nancy Willard, E. B. White—and, oh yes, Arnold Lobel.
everything happens twice (Fireweed Press, 2002)
when gertrude married alice (Parallel Press, 2004)
I Am Still Waiting
For James Mason to come to me,
biting his pipe and taking me in his arms,
comforting me with that wonderful voice of his,
assuring me my evil stepmother will never beat me again,
and the awful headmaster will never have his way with me. I am
still waiting for Shane to return to the boy calling his name
through the echoing hills, still waiting for Dorothy's Someday,
for Scarlett's perfect tomorrow. Though anyone with eyes
can see that Scarlettt doesn't have a clue, will never
have a clue, no matter how many sequels she gets.
And Dorothy's stuck in Kansas, and the boy calls and calls.
I awake in the morning, not next to James Mason,
but with you—warm and golden and real as the
sunshine. And mine. Almost definitely mine.
From everything happens twice (Fireweed Press, 2002)
Lesson, with Questions
You (in your very good English)
are explaining to me
how Matisse did not
paint things—he painted
between them. You
the geranium in its pot
the goldfish in its bowl
(your hands quick now, light—as if you
were holding your own invisible brush)
and the way apples on a table
mirror the woman's breasts then
I say to you (in my very bad
French) I like this one, I like
how the woman stands at the window
the book lying open that way
the sky so wide
so impossibly blue.
From when gertrude married alice (Parallel Press, 2004)