Citation
Positive Deviance

Material Information

Title:
Positive Deviance
Creator:
Anderson, Anna E
Place of Publication:
[Gainesville, Fla.]
Florida
Publisher:
University of Florida
Publication Date:
Language:
english
Physical Description:
1 online resource (39 p.)

Thesis/Dissertation Information

Degree:
Master's ( M.F.A.)
Degree Grantor:
University of Florida
Degree Disciplines:
Creative Writing
English
Committee Chair:
HOFMANN,MICHAEL H
Committee Co-Chair:
LOGAN,WILLIAM
Committee Members:
MLINKO,ANGE

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
tree
English -- Dissertations, Academic -- UF
Genre:
bibliography ( marcgt )
theses ( marcgt )
government publication (state, provincial, terriorial, dependent) ( marcgt )
born-digital ( sobekcm )
Electronic Thesis or Dissertation
Creative Writing thesis, M.F.A.

Notes

Abstract:
The following poems blend details from my own physical and emotional experiences with botanical research and observation of nature in the hope of representing what it feels like to be both alone and part of a whole. Some words and images used often here are bones, throats, trees (branches, roots, leaves), bats, different medications, and (of course) water, though I am still not entirely sure how the pattern works. ( en )
General Note:
In the series University of Florida Digital Collections.
General Note:
Includes vita.
Bibliography:
Includes bibliographical references.
Source of Description:
Description based on online resource; title from PDF title page.
Source of Description:
This bibliographic record is available under the Creative Commons CC0 public domain dedication. The University of Florida Libraries, as creator of this bibliographic record, has waived all rights to it worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law.
Thesis:
Thesis (M.F.A.)--University of Florida, 2017.
Local:
Adviser: HOFMANN,MICHAEL H.
Local:
Co-adviser: LOGAN,WILLIAM.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Anna E Anderson.

Record Information

Source Institution:
UFRGP
Rights Management:
Applicable rights reserved.
Classification:
LD1780 2017 ( lcc )

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text

PAGE 1

1 POSITIVE DEVIANCE By ANNA ELISE ANDERSON A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF FINE ARTS UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 2017

PAGE 2

2 2017 Anna Elise Anderson

PAGE 3

3 To Michael Denver Overly

PAGE 4

4 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I thank the friends that happily lent their porches and living rooms during frantic and calm phases of writing; William Logan for countless thorough and encouraging emails about my work and life in general; Michael Hofmann for his insight, guidance, and bo ok suggestions; Ange Mlinko for sitting on my committee; Glen for being Glen; nighters keeping me company while I began the poems that led to this.

PAGE 5

5 TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ................................ ................................ ................................ .. 4 ABSTRACT ................................ ................................ ................................ ..................... 7 BEDSONGS: BEFORE AND AFTER ................................ ................................ .............. 8 EPIFAU NA AND INFAUNA ................................ ................................ ............................. 9 ON KNEES ................................ ................................ ................................ .................... 10 DRYING ................................ ................................ ................................ ........................ 11 SUNDOWNING ................................ ................................ ................................ ............. 12 EASTER 1988 ................................ ................................ ................................ ............... 13 DOWNTOWN ................................ ................................ ................................ ................ 14 LI KE THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING ................................ .......................... 15 OPHELIA ................................ ................................ ................................ ....................... 16 NOCTURNE ................................ ................................ ................................ .................. 17 WHITE LIGHT ................................ ................................ ................................ ............... 18 SICK TIME ................................ ................................ ................................ .................... 19 LOVE POEMS ................................ ................................ ................................ ............... 20 Pot Pie ................................ ................................ ................................ .................... 20 Spotlight ................................ ................................ ................................ .................. 20 House Flies ................................ ................................ ................................ ............. 20 BE ACH REVISED ................................ ................................ ................................ ......... 21 PANCAKES ................................ ................................ ................................ ................... 22 OWL GAZING BACKWARD ................................ ................................ .......................... 23 SLUMBER PARTY ................................ ................................ ................................ ........ 24 ................................ ................................ ....... 25 CENTER ................................ ................................ ................................ ....................... 26

PAGE 6

6 BONE WORK ................................ ................................ ................................ ................ 27 DREAMING ................................ ................................ ................................ ................... 28 PLANT CYCLE ................................ ................................ ................................ .............. 29 Ep ifagus Virginiana ................................ ................................ ................................ 29 Pinus Palustrus ................................ ................................ ................................ ....... 29 Magnolia Grandiflora ................................ ................................ ............................... 29 Liquidambar Sturaciflua ................................ ................................ .......................... 29 Hibiscus Rosa Sinensis ................................ ................................ .......................... 30 Ravenaela Madagascaris ................................ ................................ ....................... 30 Acer Floridanum ................................ ................................ ................................ ..... 30 BETWEEN PATIENCE AND DISCIPLINE ................................ ................................ .... 31 FOR THE WEDDING ................................ ................................ ................................ .... 32 ................................ ................................ ................................ ... 33 HEROIN THING ................................ ................................ ................................ ............ 34 ARACHNE ................................ ................................ ................................ ..................... 35 APPROACH ................................ ................................ ................................ .................. 36 WAKE ................................ ................................ ................................ ............................ 37 VIA WATER ................................ ................................ ................................ .................. 38 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ................................ ................................ ............................ 39

PAGE 7

7 Abstract of T hesis Presented t o the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Fine Arts POSITIVE DEVIANCE By Anna Elise Anderson December 2017 Chair: Michael Hofmann Major: Creative Writing The following poems blend details from my own physical and emotional experiences with botanical research and observation of nature in the hope of representing what it feels like to be both alone and part of a whole. Some words and images used often here a re bones, throats, trees (branches, roots, leaves), bats, different medications, and (of course) water pattern works.

PAGE 8

8 BEDSONGS: BEFORE AND AFTER I. In evening, just shy of sleep, release Forget the breeze dropped leaves, stray cats skimming the street. Unremember comings and goings. Piece by piece, the long day undone, you wait for both eyelids to close at once. II. In morning, wonder: Where did you go? Ha ving already gone there, why do you still not know? You stretch and start over, then remember from the dream a suede purple sneaker, low ferns reaching moonward, a flake of snow leaving tongue for throat. No more.

PAGE 9

9 EPIFAUNA AND INFAUNA Because we hav e to give something or else can't believe giving exists, as a river will will its way around rock, all water comes whether called or not. In cloud form, the ipse dixit booms of thunder sound almost human. Water drops when it wants. I want to wield mac kerel schools. I like imagining other ways to put this. When I think about water I become amorphous just considering it, suddenly unable to dictate to someone else what "moving forward" means. What haunts me about water isn't fish, and isn't quite a system. It's the giving in, allow anything to enter and enter anything way of water I can't handle. This is where I and everyone like me live: sinecures in an elaborate limbo, playing in the wet dirt. Familiar.

PAGE 10

10 ON KNEES They do nothing, folding up from the water in contorted brown peaks flung around the cypress. They need nothing, swarming the trunk. Prophet sighted, divided in part water, part sun, part mud, they are considered arbitrary and like Cassandra unbelievable. I thin k why rise, and not sink? To what height might a gnarled knee reach? Like any other prophecy of ruin, they predict growth. I sit among them stunned, hand to throat. These worthless gargoyles thrived in swamps f or a thousand years before my thirty one. Just woody nubs above the roots: worthless because, even with knees removed, a cypress continues.

PAGE 11

11 DRYING As a child, after my showers, I was sometimes allowed to lump dry, curled on the bath mat conch like, damp towel draped over m y spine. I would close my eyes. After a while spent in that personal night I could feel growing in my limbs the numbness of flowers.

PAGE 12

12 SUNDOWNING The whole summer was dead to the sparkle between things. Hope is a body in a hot cage with clipped wings, like the bird my grandma left on the porch one morning while cleaning. My mom, still a kid then, found it at sundown, burnt, still perched on its metal seat. Mom tells me the bird died watching the sky wash everything clean white, the su n so bright between bars the cobwebs became wet lace. her mom is dying. Both are, to each other, becoming unrecognizable.

PAGE 13

13 EASTER 1988 That year I went around the house calling myself The Miss Fixit Lady peeing on couch cushions after my shower, tapping pick up sticks on the Corian counters of my parents' house. Even the fey Bismarck palms of Pinellas County were no match for the gobsmacking cumulonimbus that shifted overhead, and both still loom, pastel, at video collection. A toddler in the living room's pre dawn dark, I rake my palms over moon colored carpet. Ca mera zoomed in on my face, my dad asks from off screen "Honey, do you know what day it is?" My first test fai led. Whatever animated me then was so clearly far away.

PAGE 14

14 DOWNTOWN Remember that little boy at Vinoy Park caught on the branch that hangs over Fourth? He kept saying, analyzing it, while you gently pulled him down. They teach kids the way out of this city is up, but that kind of education leaves a kid stuck watching the whole park, straight down to the pier: every car sidled tight against an empty meter. On Sunday, When you come in my mouth I feel l ike a tree the warm earth wants green. to escape my carefree hair. I mean to say: forget the sky. For once, let the good part of the story lie beneath me.

PAGE 15

15 LIKE THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING In the ditch, a plastic bag hunched and shifted like a human body, a slack handle caught on a cattail, soft belly uplifted by wind. I saw the iridescent plastic: skin colored, translucent, and split in half like a magician's assistant. A crow on the power line cawed. The call rose as inexactly as shadow. Other crows landed in a row like handfuls of wet black silk beside it. Where a sun bleached wood pole joined the lines, something misconnecte d, sending sparks toward the ground like cockroaches from a burning tower. Inches beyond the blue flame, the cut line, the crows watched, hot footed, and yawned, like they knew what they were doing

PAGE 16

16 OPHELIA Ophelia Polonius to sleep, sleeps in a sea as if by accident, grows un green, and through the night waits for day to elaborat e its face. Would it be easier to have a name to call the strange warmth spreading just under my skin? I saw Hamlet half undressed and knew he meant to wreck me. I could be a mother. I could be an infant shaping my soft skull against his bones. Sea l me off and I suffer the same as he. familiar with the work of unraveling. growing deep They call me incapable of handling my grief, but look at me: so quickly descending from tree limb, swallowed by pondwater that helped raise the very tree I just climbed. Same tree, same pond, perhaps, your tears will feed. No secrets left between us no w.

PAGE 17

17 NOCTURNE The nocturne began with full chords that poured themselves out, one note at a time, in Chopin's order, over bare percussion, like stars appearing early in sky. Then the song moved the way the night darkens. When I tried to report the wa y this music rode out to meet the heather white hairs of my torso, I said: like horseman after horseman but I meant driven I'm still surprised how one sound can encounter the skin around my left ear like rain crossing roof shingles. Lately, whenever touched, my whole body unlocks like the Twenty First Nocturne. I'm back to poured tones not less than whole an animal woken in a world it knows already in its bones.

PAGE 18

18 WHITE LIGHT Winters in Florida, behind my childhood home, I climbed the grapefruit canopy to take my shirt off and press my chest naked against the trunk. My first privacy was this: safety in wilderness. Leaf broken sunlight. Now I smoke on my patio as the sweetgum drops spiked seed pods toward my bare feet. At sunset, free tailed bats shoot from verdigris canopy into the hot pink. Left behind leaves overdosed and died I sat alone at Glasser Park all night while a stranger p on guitar in the dark. Black fog rolled off the bay, billowing in my face, while all around me palms cast down their sharp, straight arms as they do every day.

PAGE 19

19 SICK TIME You turned off all the clocks in the house w While you were sleeping, your ears, nose, and throat bustled like a festival in Saigon. Bustling like a festival in Saigon, you mustered the vigor to dust the living room furniture. You dusted the living room furniture. In the kitchen, the pilot light went out. It should have be like you to c rouch by the stove with matches; but after the pilot light went out, there you were, bent low, red nosed, lighting one after another. Crouched by the stove, you looked like an unburned match. You could have been anywhere, but you stayed stagnant: bent, red nosed, lighting one after another, as if doing a slow dance with one hand alone. You should have been taking care of your ears, nose, and throat, leaving your thoughts alone like the flow of blood avoiding your numb ri ght hand. You turned off all the clocks in the house.

PAGE 20

20 LOVE POEMS Pot Pie What I think are fruit flies swarm the trash, but I don't know what they want, exactly. We keep the tin lid shut as often as possible. Chicken simmers with kale, peas, carrots, cream, later in the oven covered by crust the color of morning light on dying leaves. While he cooks I go to Lowe's for roach traps, fly paper, Dr. Pepper. He's still at the stove when I come home. The swarm has grown. Spotlight In bed I read by the l ight of an old theater spot angled at the wall. Flies warble in silence over the heat of its upturned metal cone. I think, for a moment, they could be fleas, but squeeze and check my palm for blood. They aren't. House Flies I wake at five to water the oregano and spearmint potted along the kitchen window. Not a single fly caught yet on the paper spindle, but a dozen rise from the empty coffee pot as I lift it. Now, each morning begins with wondering What have they found he re? What do I give them?

PAGE 21

21 BEACH REVISED When they dredged to rebuild the hurricane thinned beaches of my hometown, lizards fled the machine roiled coast for ground more stable. Greenbrown lizard bodies rose and fell across dunes. E scaping, they moved like dragonfly shadows. The water was stirred so well edge, light no longer reached the sea bed. The dredging stopped, still I watched. For weeks after, shore dwelling animals kept wandering inland. What we dredged was shell the mashed rubble of homes worn by softer living creatures. Eyes wide open that whole winter, what could I have done differently? All my nightmares were of whales.

PAGE 22

22 PANCAKES Poured warm salt wat er through my nose giddy on mushrooms, steering with your teeth. But you were safe with me, skinny triptillomaniac, as were the shocks of black hair curled on my pillow, poking my cheek. Most days you could barely eat. A belly shot of Humira every afternoon, and later weed, gin, tequila. You cheated on me, but still convinced me to sign a lease. You filled a pink balloon with champagne and left it like a joke on my seat. Too late, I noticed these things. The night you kicked the TV and broke the screen, we lay on the floor and listened to the score of Edward Scissorhands first time high on morphine. You finger traced the skin of my shoulder blade the way a dentist might brush dust from a bat wing. I coul pancakes on your ribcage while you sleep.

PAGE 23

23 OWL GAZING BACKWARD Like a half browned apple hovering over the oak branch, a barred owl sits in it s chosen spot, turning its beige, flat heart face left to right at the pace a rollercoaster climbs: silently, one tick at a time. My eyes unfocus. The owl's form softens. I look away and light a cigarette. The bird's black eyes remain fading from the place they were set, borne by soft down around them, like memory.

PAGE 24

24 SLUMBER PARTY I. with your toes the other bodies wrapped up, fanned out like dead fingers in gloves. Pour yourself down every dark hall. Push the warm garlic smell of your palms into the walls. II. Allow a long visit from the inspector of death. Be still while the bone white glove taps your forehead for hints of hidden life. Echo his steps with a marble mouth. Remain limp, Do your best.

PAGE 25

25 Ulanova begins the dance collapsed, not alone: near prone in a busy square, one arm thrown above her head. Gathering dancers in the crowd wear folds of white silk pinned to pulled tight hair, little hats that remain steady as beneath the fabric the figures stir. The prima ballerina now rises, crossing to include sil houetted audience, blurred backs of heads beneath the crisp, lit houses onstage. Beyond the Bolshoi walls, a peach sunset clouds the ornate black skyline of Moscow. In the window of the borrowed office where I now lounge watching the ballet in darknes s, clouds quit the sun. Elsewhere, the long, white, lace like skirts of the ballerinas spread like ghosts into air.

PAGE 26

26 CENTER At the pond edge a duck outstretches wings so deep green they look black. The V makes an X with its reflection like a mark hal f on, half off a map. A passerby unleashes her greyhound, and the water shuts like a mouth going yup Otherwise, nothing happens. The pond, whole again, returns to my attention. The dog rests watching water lap at the surrounding popcorn butter yellow townhouses. Across twenty third, the bugling of more birds. Obscured by pines, eighteen sandhill cranes stagger in perfect angles through the sunset like streaks of cream. They land in lim p tufts on the green, having come a long way.

PAGE 27

27 BONE WORK last bone to become bone. They must fear change, these cells that are what they are now, and must have feared it before, when they were something else. The bone is dense, hollow, and shaped like a rowboat. I peel and eat an orange, trust my throat, thoughtless, to send the pulp down. It goes. My view from the couch shows the Kalanchoe, tangerined with new buds, unmoved from where I placed it days ago. The bank phones. Ignoring the borrowed book on Shamanism, like my incoming bills, I focus on painkillers and looking out the window. Some people believe all things have spirit, that a shaman can become a The first birds to fly must have enjoyed the lightness, taking flight because, not in spite, what a human bone can or cannot hold in perfect form, let alone in brokenness.

PAGE 28

28 DREAMING In kindergarten she slips her thigh the cool frame between her legs. The other kids breathe stead ily, dreaming. She watches The Wizard of Oz the blades of the ceiling fan still, piled high with confetti above her, waiting. She dreams an egret unfolding white wings on a concrete seawall, sees the hot glint of sunlit fishscales pour like armored water down the beak. She wakes vaguely in love

PAGE 29

29 PLANT CYCLE Epifagus Virginiana Clusters of oat colored beechdrops climb the base of the beech, parasites of obligation. Unable to feed themselves light like their massive They bear tiny white and violet blooms, die, and the dead stalks stand all winter, dry and upright like the living. Pinus Palustrus In fine, strong line s the longleaf pines once formed the bones of ships and railroads. Now the lean trunks lift black needled fists skyward down I 75, unnoticed. Backlit in bright blue air, they barely shudder at a passing semi, still as handfuls of unburned incense or locks of auburn, petrified hair. Magnolia Grandiflora More ancient than bees, the unfolding cream lapels of magnolias move in breeze like human hair in seawater. Surrounded by the marooned green gloss of leaves, I climbed the same tree every afternoo n in childhood, naming the intersecting and split branches by their use to me: swing shot, look perch, library. Liquidambar Sturaciflua The sweetgum just beyond the patio kept me company through two summers and three winters after Mike died. I expect ed nothing, yet received spiked seed pods at my feet, the sun setting hot pink behind canopy, free tailed bats shooting from the verdigris.

PAGE 30

30 Hibiscus Rosa Sinensis They line the waterfront lawns of Florida with red orange, open mouthed flowers, forming elaborate, upholstered boundaries between houses. Color pocks this shrub like holes in a wall around fire, but the bloom, when crushed, can cool blood. Ravenaela Madagascaris Hatched from hot blue haired seeds, ri ses to meet a need, forming curved, stacked cups of rainwater tucked away are traveler s who pass this palm without drinking. Acer Floridanum In mid afternoon wind, the maple Ma r ilyn Monroes its warm blonde l eaves above swimming teenagers. Their tan faces twirl in glaring peaks of poolwater. The maple releases keys, and the keys catch wind: two headed, sun bleached, winged they, too, spin.

PAGE 31

31 BETWEEN PATIENCE AND DISCIPLINE To the photo of the sixteenth president I kept in a sea foam plastic frame by my hotel bed, I prayed for discipline, but Abraham insisted we discuss Willie instead. Did you know he once drank a cup of melted butter? He used to pick dead bees off the Wh ite House lawn. And do what, then? At the Hampton Inn and Suites in Asheville two suitcases, a cell phone, and some clothes, I felt the edge of an unfathomable strangeness approach from nowhere. Barefoot, I f ollowed a gold pattern on the burgundy carpet to the bathroom threshold, where a giant waterbug rested, pregnant and stoic. I saw the hundreds of oblong eggs packed upright on its back like bound black drinking straws, knowing they would all break op en, alive, after I left. Soon, but not yet.

PAGE 32

32 FOR THE WEDDING As I head through Georgia for the wedding, thunder joins me. I watch a hatless farmer standing alone in his wheat field and imagine his wife, distant as Jayne Mansfield off screen. White noise floods towns like these. Cricket sounds settle an evening even better than booze. Last week, I bought a cedar box engraved with the names of bride and groom. I lost the wedding invitation in the upheaval on.

PAGE 33

33 Rodrigo Brabanzio a grown black jaguar stalking through magnolias, nose to the ground, near where his daughter sunbathes most days. While he sleeps the trees keep growing. In his dream, t as a chair leg, moves more quietly than its padded paws. the father, dreaming, sees himself t hrough the window, dead. His body mapped back into landscape, he sleeps there also, under a rock carved with his name He leaves the yard lights on all night, every night. Terrified, alive, he is fina lly awake now and answers the inarticulate call like a character in a play. Already, he knows something grandiose is coming, but not w hat just that what comes can not be stopped. like a giant snake placed in th e wrong body by accident, now escaping. T his is Venice but the dream world hints: I stranger There is no comfortable way to stay long enough in yet another story. Somewhere I am a black cat smiling imaginary thieves and hear mostly magnolias. No matter how well we manage, we are all likely to lose children.

PAGE 34

34 HEROIN THING The magic of your dick bores me. I've been sitting alone while you go off to score. I'm jealous you've found a reason to wait long hours, not jealous of the heroin thing. I sit on your cracked leather couch and hope the AC fixes itself. I wander from room to room. The wasps on your back porch are more mine than yours, th ough they rest only long enough for me to see them in shadow through the thrifted lampshade you rigged to soften the porch bulb. Their nests are no more than holes gathered up like flowers. mbined waiting and leaving, worked out that poking holes in your arm is one way toward freedom.

PAGE 35

35 ARACHNE legged ex woman a coward. Day in and day out I wove heartbeat into tapestry. I consider the past, gods, power, grass, lightning. What I made was beautiful and I paid for it. The gods filled my body with wet white silk. legged; g these days.

PAGE 36

36 APPROACH then, sir, when I put the helm down so gently, and try like to coax her to the work, she won't take it kindly, but will fall round off again; and it's all because she Herman Melville, Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life I. Six months deep in salt horse and sea biscuits made even the color green mean death. Directionless, starving sailors milled around the last chicken, saved in case no replacement came. We named him Pedro. Pedro was alive then. I measured his fear, gathering shed feathers around the deck. I stuffed my pillow with them, slept with the balding bird pressed against my chest. Most nights, to pass time, I dreamed aloud the Queen of the Marquesas will find you A sailor in the crow cup hollered down to us, II. Green in the Marquesas is all overgrown wing leaf soapberries, but as we approached, the island was no more than an off blue break between sky and wave. Course set and coasting, the other sailors relaxed, but I kept watch through hawse holes and the blue range unfolded imperceptibly slowly.

PAGE 37

37 WAKE It is not my grandmother Dot hunched alone on the front pew in a bright shawl borrowed from my aunt Holly, who later cried the most but stayed composed that morning, grateful. too loudly to notice the garish orange thing their mother never would have worn by choice, though its heat balanced h er grief, which was still solid then, plain in her face like chicken cooked in its own soft crunch of skin. It is not my mother at the end of the row, joining the familial disharmony of tones in the name Jesus, eyes closed, each with a hand in purse, fingering cell phone, lipstick, etc. would whoosh from the half open pine box holding his body and display a fr esh, even more complicated shape at any moment. It is my mother alone, and the cool comfort Peace pulled up around me like bedsheets, peace in a place that still exists where there is no floor. We exited church, quick and sunlit, through a back door.

PAGE 38

38 VIA WATER Again the sun sets against a cormorant. The shore is there one day, not the next. Cordoba dies with his green eyes open, Raw jellyfish pain of burned lips, split red skin, throat dry and stiff as a plastic windsock. A flying fish drops in from nowhere. A miracle. I bend over the boat lip, body hinged like a jaw, and wiggle my fingers in the water. Think of shrimp. Weeks go by. A wooden trunk appears like a waitress, serving a carton of milk beyond sour and a can of baby carrots. a lost pack of cigarillos and a light enclosed in plastic float past, just close enough to grab. For a while, rising moonward from the boat, my one thin line of smoke. Nothing else. Dawn comes again. My eyelids, like parched infants, gum the milk white fog. The horizon splits darkness from darkness all.

PAGE 39

39 BIOGRA PHICAL SKETCH Anna Elise Anderson is a musician, artist, and writer born and raised in St. Peter sburg, Florida. A rtist in R esidence at the Austin Cary Memorial Forest in Gainesville, Florida. Elise received her B.A. in English with a minor in French from Davidson College in North Carolina and her M.F.A. in poetry from the University of Florida in 2017. Her work has appeared in 491 Magazine, Treehouse Magazine, Charlotte Viewpoint, Revelader, Grasslimb Journal, WUFT.org, and var ious self published art zines.