This month our editorial intern Marian Kohng interviews Tyler Hurula on her poetry collection Too Pretty for Plain Coffee. The collection explores themes of self-love, polyamory, queerness, and never apologizing for being too much. It’s a heartwarming collection and the perfect read for these frigid winter days.

Marian Kohng: What is the significance of the recurring theme of coffee and its role compared to tea and wine?

Tyler Hurula: I grew up in the Mormon church, where coffee was prohibited. Coffee has since become an indulgence, and every time I drink coffee it almost feels like I’m getting away with something. I live for seasonal coffee flavors, and adding something fun to make it extra indulgent. The title Too Pretty for Plain Coffee came from visiting a friend. I was curling my hair and getting frustrated with how much time I was taking to get ready to head out for the day, and told my friend I needed coffee. They offered to make me coffee, and I jokingly told them “I’m too pretty for plain coffee” and it just stuck. Wine also feels indulgent to me. Almost like dressing up drinking, because in my head wine is what you drink if you’re trying to be fancy about it. In the book, a partner is the one drinking tea. They don’t need it to be fancified or add extra flavors or special milk, but they see and love me for all the ways I’m “extra.”

MK: What is your process of deciding how to format certain poems and the intentionality of them to convey your message, such as in “Are You Just Being Nice, or Are We In Love?” and “One More”?

TH: Playing with the format of the poems in Too Pretty for Plain Coffee was so much fun for me. Previously, I struggled with formatting, and was determined to step out of my comfort stanzas with this book. “Are You Just Being Nice, or Are We In Love” is written as a multiple-choice quiz because of the sapphic nature of the relationship. In my experience connecting with other queer folks, a common experience in sapphic dating is wondering if someone is actually into you, or if they’re just being nice. It was my idea of not wanting to assume romantic intent, and almost a callback to slipping someone a note in elementary school saying, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”

In “One More” I was expressing the loss of a relationship, and playing with the tension in perseverating on what would happen if there was just ‘one more’ kiss or loving gesture. Would that change anything? Would that person come back? Would they realize they missed out? It was me trying to hold onto this relationship and this person, even though they left. The repetition of “one more” in varying shades of gray are meant to represent the fading feelings as time passes. Even after those feelings have faded, something can trigger them again and revive them. I’ve often reflected on different “lasts”, and how/if things would be different if we knew it was the last time we got to kiss someone, or talk to someone on the phone, or share a meal with someone. If only I got to kiss that person one more time, would it have felt final? Could I get closure?

MK: Tell me more about the role of lipstick in your poems and the message behind intentional lipstick prints versus unintentional lipstick smudges?

TH: The more I’ve gotten to be comfortable in my own self, the more I’ve let myself love the things I love. Bright pink lipstick is one of those things and has become a staple for me. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy finding lipsticks that don’t leave residue or stains, and even the best ones still aren’t perfect. When you do start stepping into your full self more, not everyone is going to like it, and some people are going to miss the versions of you they imagined you might stay as. I am going to wear the lipstick, and I am going to be myself regardless of who likes it or doesn’t, and sometimes I might get lipstick on something I shouldn’t, or I might be too loud, or too direct, or too messy, but I’m choosing myself regardless.

MK: What did you wish to deliver through the personification in your poems, whether it is the personification of periods, anniversary cards, or being too much, and how do they relate to love for oneself?

TH: In the opening poem of the book, “I’ve Only Been Told I’m Hard to Read by People I Don’t Like,” there is a line that says, “I personified my ‘too much’ in a poem to separate myself from the reason people have left me.” Personification is one of my favorite ways to engage in poetry. Sometimes things are just too close to be able to see clearly, especially when there is a judgement attached to them. In my poem “I AM TOO MUCH FOR MOST”, I do personify my “too much” and I was able to decide how my ‘too much’ shows up in the world. I made it something outside of myself, which allowed me to learn how to love it.

I talk about polyamory in this book, which has a lot of stigma around it. In “Polyamory from the Perspective of an Anniversary Card” I’m able to address many of the negative comments I’ve gotten for being polyamorous in a way that felt accessible and not focused on any specific person. I wanted to be able to reach people that may have these negative ideas and beliefs about polyamory in a way that wasn’t accusatory, but invited them into my perspective.

As an AFAB person, I grew up being taught not to talk about my period. It is a “gross” and personal thing. I want to de-stigmatize talking about our bodies and what better way to do that than to give my period its own voice? We have so much to gain from talking about these types of things that are “taboo” or things we’re supposed to keep to ourselves like periods, polyamory, and queerness.

MK: Can you speak to me about the juxtaposition between the feelings of love and heartbreak in “Schrödinger’s Heart” and the role of this juxtaposition throughout the whole collection?

TH: “Schrödinger’s Heart” is about dating as a polyamorous person, which can be complicated when you’re breaking up with one person but still totally in love with someone else. Having those big feelings is a lot, especially when trying to navigate them at the same time. In my poem “I Can’t Love Anyone Into Loving Me,” I realize that by loving and caring about people, I could be a tender magician, even if some of those people choose not to love me back. When you date more people, there is more of a potential for heartbreak. I think choosing to love in spite of that is a really brave thing.

MK: What did you wish to convey by redacting certain parts of the letters in “Erasure Poem from a Card I Found in my Underwear Drawer” and “Letters to Ex-Lovers, Ending in One for Myself”?

TH: “Erasure Poem from a Card I Found in my Underwear Drawer” was so fun to play with. It is in direct conversation with the poem “While Cleaning Out My Underwear Drawer I Wondered When all my Underwear Became Period Underwear.” I’ve learned that I am not for everyone, and not everyone is going to love me and that’s okay. Sometimes we do just survive someone and learn more about ourselves on the other end. I think sometimes people survive us as well—even when we don’t mean to cause harm. In the past, I’ve chosen to be in relationships that don’t serve me because I want so badly to be loved. “Letters to Ex-Lovers, Ending in One for Myself” is a reminder that I will always be in a relationship with myself, and I get to choose what that looks like, and I don’t just want to survive myself.

MK: Can you speak about how you decided to structure the collection overall and start with the first poem, “I’ve Only Been Told I’m Hard to Read by People I Don’t Like,” and end it with the last poem, “Self Portrait as Someone to Love”?

TH: I started with “I’ve Only Been Told I’m Hard to Read by People I Don’t Like” because I felt like it was a good introduction to me. This whole book is about being too much—whether it’s because I’m queer, polyamorous, bisexual, a woman, etc. I wanted to explore what being “too much” looks like for me specifically, and how it manifests in my life. I wanted it to be earnest and endearing. I think parts of that poem are funny. I wanted the poem to be an invitation and a plea to see me.

The book was originally called “The Polyamory Breakup Bible,” but when I put all my poems together and read through it, I realized it was more of a love letter to myself and the parts of myself I’ve been told are “too much.” The poems in the beginning of the book are more about how other people see me. Many of the poems in the middle of the book focus on other people—they’re breakup poems, yearning poems, love poems. The end of the book is about my relationship with myself and learning to embrace all parts of me. I wanted to begin and end with myself because ultimately, I’m the only person who is stuck with me, and I’m not here to perform for anyone but myself.

MK: What is the main message you want readers to take away from your collection when experiencing the different shades of love for oneself and others?

TH: There are so many ways to love and be in relationships with ourselves and our family, friends, romantic partners, and everyone in between. Too Pretty for Plain Coffee is an invitation to explore the parts of ourselves that have been deemed unworthy, either internally or externally, and challenge them. What if the thing I’ve been told to hate about myself was actually one of the most loving and endearing things about me? What if this thing I’ve been told makes me unlovable is what someone loves most about me? Is it something I can learn to love about myself? Choosing to love and celebrate ourselves and the people in our communities is one of the most radical and brave things we can do in a world that thrives and profits from hate and division.

Too Pretty for Plain Coffee is available through Wayfarer Press & Magazine

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Tyler Hurula (she/they), also known as the Pretty Pink Poet, is a poet and explorer based in Denver, Colorado. She started writing poetry at the beginning of the pandemic because she decided she needed a hobby and saw Megan Falley’s workshop “Poems That Don’t Suck” and decided to give it a try. They have since fallen in love with poetry and strive to build and grow a poetry community in the Denver Metro area. She strives to be the most queer and polyamorous person they can be and much of her poetry reflects these themes.

Their first full-length poetry collection is published through Wayfarer Books, released in April 2025. They have a poetry chapbook published with Querencia Press titled Love Me Louder and have multiple poems published in Gnashing Teeth Publishing, Fiery Scribe Review, South Broadway Press, Last Leaves Magazine, and more. Her poems have been nominated for the 2023 Best of the Net award, and the 2023 Pushcart Prize.

They host a monthly queer poetry open mic night, and facilitate poetry writing workshops.

Marian Kohng (she/her/hers) is a proud Korean American and an Editorial Intern at Sundress Publications and a Traffic Copy Editor at a local news station in Tucson, AZ. She also has a Bachelor’s in Neuroscience and Cognitive Science and a Master’s in Marketing. She loves to get lost in a good book and will read just about anything, including the back of the shampoo bottle.

LIZZY: The Elizabeth Keckley Story, from bondage to becoming America’s first couturière (2025) threads fact and fiction into a genre-bending ode to the perseverance of African Americans. Evelyn G. Nuyda, formerly writing under the penname C. Georgina C., conducts readers’ attention with a maestro’s precision, contrasting gravity and levity in a delicate, honest balance. With genuine characters and undeniable history, Nuyda’s retelling of Elizabeth Keckley’s story shimmers like the finest silk, demanding attention elegantly and proving wholly worthy of it.

A summer day in 1932 Harlem witnesses the silent unveiling of buried history at the hands of Reverend Stansil. Finding a book tucked in the late church founder Reverend William Crowdy’s attic, Stansil discovers the story of a woman obscured by history’s biased hands, a story beginning nearly one hundred and fifteen years to his day.

In February of 1818, in Dinwiddie County, Virginia, Elizabeth’s first breaths tie her to a cruel life of bondage. Born to Agnes Hobbs, her enslaved mother, and Master Burwell, her biological father, Elizabeth enters a life predetermined for her. In an unforgiving world, persevering love and daring hope soothe Elizabeth’s heart; and so begins her long journey, from a young enslaved girl in Virginia to the free couturière of the First Lady.

Nuyda’s characters pop off the page like brocade, rich and alive, with a tenacity that is incredibly human. Their dynamic nature captures readers’ hearts with grace, connecting them across time and place. Of the most prominent characterizations is unsurprisingly Elizabeth’s. Her endurance in a world vying to break her is boldly captured in her persistence to appreciate beauty amidst the monstrosites and dismissals:

“Where she saw drapery too faded for its place in a proper Southern parlor, I saw silk that still gleamed softly in the right light. Where she saw fabric meant to be discarded, I saw the makings of a gown.” (Nuyda, 66)

In injecting the narrative with Elizabeth’s artistic noticings, Nuyda cements her characterization as a dressmaker long before she ever becomes one. As she finally achieves her dream, the reader arrives with her at her destination with complete faith.

Another glowing aspect of the book is the relationships between characters; whether harsh or tender, the dynamics seize the reader’s attention with a mix of realism and dramatic aptitude. The dynamic between Elizabeth—or “Lizzy” as her mother’s husband, George Hobbs, affectionately called her—and her parents, Agnes and George, is one as delicate and intricate as lace. There’s a staggering awareness of the harshness of servitude, contrasted with her mother’s beauty and bravery and George’s tenderness and unwavering love through the forced separation of their family.

From stolen moments where Agnes risked her life to teach Lizzy how to read—“Every stolen moment was spent with my mother quietly guiding my hands across pages of the books she had kept hidden; books she had learned from, even before I was born…” (Nuyda, 26)—to the bittersweet, short-lived reunion of George and his family—“In one swift, unforgiving breath, it became the last time I would see my father, the last time his lips would brush my forehead, the last time I would feel his warmth” (39)—every emotion is heightened and cleverly utilized to reflect the world the characters live in as much as their own dynamics.

Though fleeting on the page, the secondary characters are equally memorable. Albert, an eleven year old enslaved boy, charms readers with his artistry and prevailing innocence. Others like Little Joe and his mother seize readers’ hearts with the heartaching polarity of maternal love in the face of a callous dealing separating him from her:

“There was something about the way she dressed him that caught my breath, something that spoke of loss before the first breath…His boots were battered, worn to near ruin, but she had polished them until they shone like the morning. And the laces, though frayed at the ends,were tied with the kind of care that made them whole again, made them worthy of him, worthy of the beautiful boy he was.” (Nuyda, 44)

Through an equally humanistic portrayal of the Lincolns, Nuyda reinvents historical political figures, delving into their grief and their joy, and it is through that method that she bridges the perceived gap, portraying unity in its rawest form. Matters of race blanch in the face of the human experience as Lizzy holds a grieving Mary Lincoln, as Abraham Lincoln plays with goats.  

Despite the historical focus of the book, it is not lacking in relatability. The themes around fashion within offer both introspective and societal commentary on the power of clothes and their role in society, especially for women. In the same vein, Nuyda utilizes dressmaking as a gateway to probing at women’s complex lives in the tangled web of history, race, and freedom.

With its first person narration, LIZZY (2025) embodies the spirit of a memoir packaged in the cloth of historical fiction, immersing readers in a story so honest, it radiates with the authenticity of a true autobiography. Nuyda’s dressmaking expertise and research shine through the book’s fashion nuances, underscoring the frank storytelling with undeniable notes of beauty and wisdom that linger beyond the last page. Now being adapted into a play, readers can expect LIZZY ’s theatrical debut in LA in Spring 2026.

Find out more about LIZZY on the official website

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Tassneem Abdulwahab (she/her) is an aspiring writer and editor with a BA (Hons) Creative and Professional Writing from UWE Bristol. With a strong interest in culture, history, and psychology and a love for fiction, her writing often draws on one or more of these threads to tell character-centric stories. Trained in oil painting, she exhibited and sold two portrait paintings in February 2025. In her free time, you can find her buying more books (no, seriously—she owns four editions of Little Women), snapping pictures of the little details, or sitting at her easel.

The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present Poetry Xfit hosted by Livia Meneghin. This generative workshop event will take place on Sunday, March 22nd, from 2 to 4 pm EST via Zoom. Join us at the link tiny.utk.edu/sundress with the password “safta”.

Poetry Xfit isn’t about throwing tires or heavy ropes, but the idea of confusing our muscles is the same. You will receive ideas, guidelines, and more as part of this generative workshop series in order to complete three poems in two hours. A new set of prompts will be provided after the writers have written collaboratively for thirty minutes. The goal is to create material that can be later modified and transformed into artwork rather than producing flawless final versions. The event is open to prose authors as well!

Livia Meneghin (she/her) is the author of two chapbooks: Honey in My Hair and feathering. She has been awarded recognition from The Academy of American Poets, Breakwater Review, The Room Magazine, the Writers’ Room of Boston, the City of Boston, and elsewhere. Her writing has found homes in Colorado Review, CV2, Gasher, The Journal, Osmosis, and Thrush, among others. Since earning her MFA in Poetry, she teaches writing and literature at the collegiate level and is the Sundress Reads Editor. She is a cancer survivor.

This event is brought to you in part by grants provided by the Tennessee Arts Commission. 

While this is a free event, donations can be made to the Sundress Academy for the Arts here.

The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present “Writing the Women We Were Warned About: Monstrous Feminine and Superstition in Poetry,” a workshop led by Ariadne Makridakis Arroyo on Wednesday, March 11th from 6:00-7:30 PM EST. This event will be held over Zoom. Participants can access the event at tiny.utk.edu/sundress (password: SAFTA).

Superstitions shape the way we learn about danger, identity, and belonging, but they also tell us who we’re allowed to be. In this generative poetry workshop, we’ll explore the stories and sayings we grew up with: from playful warnings to cultural myths meant to guide or socially condition us. We’ll focus on Latin American monstrous women like La Siguanaba and La Ciguapa, specifically on their folklore and their defiance of gender expectations. What happens when you become the woman you’ve been warned about?

While there is no fee to participate in this workshop, those who are able and appreciative may make donations directly to via PayPal: ariadnemakridakis@gmail.com

Born and raised by Greek and Guatemalan immigrants, Ariadne Makridakis Arroyo is a Los Angeles-based writer, arts administrator, and feminista who grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana. Their work has been featured in Stellium Literary Magazine, Stonecoast Review, Latin@ Literatures, Tasteful Rude, and Acentos Review. In 2023, they were awarded a speculative fiction fellowship with Roots. Wounds. Words. and were named the 2025 LGBTQIA+ residency fellow with the Sundress Academy for the Arts. Currently, Ariadne’s work centers queer, feminist, and Latine perspectives in a way that explores the crossroads of radical joy, sexuality, brujería, and ancestral healing.

This event is brought to you by a grant provided by the Tennessee Arts Commission.