Author Archives: Sarah T.

3 AM

The sheep grazing in the field
across the road from a low-rent taxidermy school
can’t sleep at night, so how can I feel all right
about counting them? A long shower,
the drive to school, coffee from the nearest stand:
every move I make
is killing somebody. My own armoire’s
been giving me the silent treatment
for eighteen years. I like people
whose eyes flash a little darker when I come near;
I think hey, you must be onto something.
In the night, I’m not invisible
but I’m not quite so visible either,
depending on how you focus your eyes.


Tips and Tricks (ST)

One easy way to lose weight
is to fall in love with someone
who is already in love
with someone else. Then,
when you’re about to eat dinner,
think about that. It’s like magic
without the magic! Continue reading

What Poems Can Be (ST)

They can be as fiery and epic and maddeningly beautiful as Erin Belieu’s “In the Red Dress I Wear to Your Funeral,” available at the wonderful online magazine At Length, or as goofy and touching and confused and sad as Bob Hicok’s “The History of Origami.” There are also any number of other things they can be like, which: thank goodness.

New Poem (ST)

Honey I love you but I’m turning inside out.
I want earthquakes that alter my topography,
fresh-ripped coastlines, volcanoes charging from the sea
like the football player throwing a Hail Mary pass
in one perfect arc in the film I would like to be real life.
I want to meet a dragon. I want change for a dollar.
I want to eat a habanero pepper
stuffed with habanero peppers. I want to drip spleens
and kidneys all over the kitchen floor right now
and say that I will clean it up tomorrow! Continue reading

The Animal Psychic Speaks (ST)

The Animal Psychic Speaks

The hawk says, “I’m hungry! Where’s that mouse?”
The pig says, “Pardon me, I have the hiccups.”
The possum is thinking about intersections and her next of kin.
The anteater prefers gumdrops, but feels too shy to say so.
Those Japanese beetles see plenty of holes in the leaves’ argument.
When the stallion runs, he forgets where he comes from.
Today is your luckiest day: This rattlesnake’s on your side.

Landline (ST)


Phil padded into the living room to ask Evie what she wanted for dinner that night. She had been on hold with the cell phone company for a quarter of an hour, which was really eating into her minutes. “My heart,” she said, sliding from the couch to the floor. “On a slice of buttered brown bread.”

“We’re all out of bread,” Phil said. Evie remembered that she could not live without him.

Holding Their Tongues (ST)

Holding Their Tongues

“I’m worried the best thing about me
is what I don’t say,” Becky told her mom,
“and nobody will ever know it.
I feel like a root vegetable
with the greens snipped off
and what’s worse,
that’s my damn kimono
you’re wearing.” It was true
about the kimono, but
Ella was only trying to distract her child
from the harrows of introspection. Continue reading