The Southern Review

“Shoelace, Camisole, Rope”

Yulia cupped her face against the glass to block out the Florida sun. The breeze hesitated, and she’d begun to sweat, wisps of dark hair sticking to her face like sideburns . . . 



If Antoine hadn’t been such an ass, Maria never would have taken up with Pablo, who was the real trouble now . . .

Read “Bloodletting” at Narrative.


“The Mustache”

Maritza had agreed to marry me, but only if I grew a mustache . . .

Read “The Mustache” at Narrative.


“Plague Love”

“Takes a little getting used to, doesn’t it?” The mask muffled his voice, but she could hear the resolve . . .

Watch Pascha read “Plague Love.”

American Short Fiction


Chuchi marvels at the sparks brightening this darkest night, and I guess they are kind of pretty . . . 

Read “Ember” at American Short Fiction.

Listen to Pascha read “Ember.”


“The Only Sound is the Wind”

You might think the desert dreams of the sea, but I think deserts dream of other deserts, scorched spaces just like themselves . . . 

Chattahoochee Review

“Sad Bird”

The birds are drunk again, worse than last year . . . 

The Pinch

“This New Turn”

At its core, the story is a simple one. For ages, humans gave birth to humans and animals to animals . . . 

The Normal School


Even now, I like to think of myself as rational, inured to my father’s oddball collection of superstitions and folksy ideas . . . 

Read “Chicory” at The Normal School.

Ninth Letter

“The Moth”

Disgusted, Mari leaned into the listing cart, weaved up and down the rows past doughy patrons spread out on the floor like softening butter . . . 

 The Florida Review


The monarchs had come to town, floating and tumbling through the air like embers . . .

The New Guard

“The Sound of Ava”

I still mean to marry Ava. I do . .

Creative Nonfiction

Saw Palm

“Flight to Cuba”

About thirty years ago in Miami on a torpid summer day, someone—maybe my abuela—bought me a balloon . . . 


“I’ve Got Gordon Ralfe’s Number”

My first crush was Kevin. We were in the same classroom at Henry F. Kite Elementary School in Jacksonville . . .

Read “I’ve Got Gordon Ralfe’s Number” at 1966.

Journal of Florida Literature

“Native (soy de florida)”

It is snowing now, and I am thinking of Florida. But not of the Florida people seem to envision when I answer the question: “Where are you from?” . . .