Steph K

Joined September 2021

0 stories

Bio

I am a biologist, illustrator, educator, dancer, and writer. Given this assorted list, you can easily conclude that no activity exists that I enjoy more than learning, except perhaps sharing learning with others.

Stories (10/0)

Post pausing
Today I’d like to pause, posting the rest of my “it’s natural” pieces in the bounds of June, and taking a moment to talk about the significance of this day.
By Steph K3 days ago in Families
Saturday Sounds
Fuh-lap-step-stomp heel-stomp. It is at first A jumble of sounds. A dozen silvery heels and toes Ricocheting off of the once shimmery wooden planks.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
The breakup
“You just don’t understand,” Allan said, his hand firmly grasping Ella’s with tender tenacity. The sun beamed down on them and the adjacent seaside.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Super Bowl Sunday
James cries during commercials, his 6’4” frame folded at its midline, wracked in sobs. He says he feels the unmet needs of the advertiser and the consumer. They move him.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Humans
What's Buried
We dug the hole together. It was a trench really, like the space between us. As friends, we’d been so close. As partners, we tight-roped above love and hate amidst winds so forceful we’d often slip off, from one side to the other.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Feeding Faith
For Ralph the nights were cold, stone against flesh with no respite. There were so few places to find shelter, but then so much shelter in the company of his friends.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Upgrade
Fuck. This is our vacation?? We’ve been here for three days and these three just keep sitting in the sun. The stout man in an orange shirt, which hugged tightly against his round belly, stood with his hands on his hips, silently surveying his company. His wife, daughter, and son, stood in a triad, hovering over an iPhone.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Out of Season
Out of season There were pumpkin seeds in the oven, scattered across the thin sheet of foil atop a stained cookie sheet. Cookie was a misnomer given the sprinkled savory toppings, but we’d sometimes made cookies there too.
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Residence Time
I stare at the screen Checkered with dark boxes Names and pronouns gleam Back in bright white Are you there? I ask, smiling
By Steph Kabout a year ago in Poets
Polly's pies
We used to sit in Polly’s Pies, in a booth under white fluorescent lights and scan the menu. You’d always order peach cobbler, even after looking again. You did every time.
By Steph K2 years ago in Humans

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Steph K

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(10/0)

Post pausing

Saturday Sounds

The breakup

Super Bowl Sunday

What's Buried

Feeding Faith

Upgrade

Out of Season

Residence Time

Polly's pies

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Stories (10/0)