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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘I Prefer To Be Amazed,’ by Sabrina Hayeem-Ladani

after Wisława Szymborska I prefer black tea. I prefer the green olives. I prefer depth to shoreline, the marshlands to the safety of the riverbed. I prefer noticing. I prefer to bend the corner of the page. I prefer to let the rice be. I prefer to be curious. I prefer to wash my vegetables. […]

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‘Waffle House Love,’ by Donovan McAbee

Nothing’s open here at 2 a.m. except the Waffle House on the edge of town. Cigarette smoke wrapped in fried-egg-smell smacks me in the face as I pull open the glass door. I take a booth and order sweet ice tea. Maybe that’s her getting out of that blue Mustang with a cherub’s smile and […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Upon Telling My Sister I Fell Between the Train and the Platform’, by Sabrina Hayeem-Ladani

She decides that we need to celebrate, takes me to buy shoes: black suede ballerina flats to show off the high arch of my foot. I wear them out of the store, dancing and limping. Next is dinner: we gorge on things we can’t afford to eat— lobster, scallops drenched in butter lifted to our […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘My Therapist’, by Amy Lawless

I told my friend the reason I don’t go to therapy: I would lie to any therapist and adjust my problems according to what I think the therapist would want to hear He said that means I’m crazy and really need to go to therapy I wouldn’t argue with this point I give a name […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Ars Poetica’, by Amy Lawless

In sixth grade, Mrs. Nerbonne assigned us the poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. We had to memorize and recite it aloud both to each other and as a chorus for the principal, a man who wore these Italian suits we’d only seen in movies. I remember standing there in […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Sculpture, Weed, and Bon Iver’, by Amy Lawless

According to, Brad Pitt is coping with his breakup with sculpture, weed, and by listening to Bon Iver. This is cliché and almost the perfect prescription. So, a great start. Funny: I think an old photo of Brad Pitt once helped me get over a breakup. Or was it a photo of someone else? […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Self-Portrait: As Harpy’, by Kate Angus

Bird-bodied, women-headed and so hungry: the food that spills over pendulous breasts, the wine that stains belly-fat, vulva. The crease, the folds, the flesh of it. The red of it too. Who could love you, hideous? Who could desire claws that clutch hair that seeps lank breath rancid And so noisy—always talking shrieking singing if […]

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In The Panhandle, by Keri Smith

The frozen crab legs and artichoke dip and french fries. Endless chardonnay on the porch at dusk and a cigar and my step mom sneaking off to call her daughter, who she never speaks about. The pool, unused and warm, the sound of frogs calling out around the yard and the ocean, a few blocks […]

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TIE: Poet of the Month: ‘Never In My Life,’ by Kate Angus

have I eaten so much sugar as in Cuba: profligate blizzard thrown over churros warm from their oil bath, now wrapped safe as babies in brown paper blankets. Glamorous Old Hollywood starlet sparkle of sweet diamonds spackled over the fruit (guava, papaya, words thick on the tongue, as if language were edible). Pulped from the […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘February Is An Early Spring’, by Kate Angus

If I slept like an egg (unbroken), my eyes opening crack the shell. This morning, a cloud formation takes the shape of Great Britain; elsewhere, a garage floods, recedes, and America stains concrete. This is a compulsion called cartocacoethes where one sees maps everywhere. I found the website, and now left-over breakfast toast is Cuba, […]

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