Abbie Kiefer


Abbie Kiefer is a poet from New Hampshire. Her work is forthcoming or has appeared in Boulevard, The Cincinnati Review, The Common, Ninth Letter, Ploughshares, Poetry Northwest, Shenandoah, The Southern Review, and other places. She was a 2022 and 2023 semifinalist for the 92Y Discovery Contest and is on the staff of The Adroit Journal. Source

A Brief History of Yankee Thrift, Yankee Ingenuity, and Yankee Work Ethic

To make. To make do or do without. To trust your own two hands,

maybe too much. To save the bent nails in coffee cans. To fold the

ratty towels. To value the threadbaring towels and the labor of

squaring them up. To be scrappy. To drive the S-10 into scrap and

keep driving it. To put what you make between you and your end. To

know God and know lack and think you’ll put some space between

you and both. To fill a kitchen drawer with rinsed-out bread bags. To

be handed bags to line your boots. To make do so long it feels like

devotion. To be riled by idleness: too much television or sleep, too

much time over coffee. To drink day-old coffee from a chip-rimmed

cup. To brush with whatever toothpaste’s on sale. To darn with cheap

yarn the moth holes in sweaters. The moths come for everything. To

feel satisfied when the garden’s in. To fall asleep estimating the

harvest. To put up seven quarts of pole beans no one particularly likes.

To put up. To hear a person say work and swear he said worth. To do.

To do. To abide in spareness and rarely be spared.





Literary Movements:


Anthology Years:




Strength & Resilience

Literary Devices:


the repetition of the same letter or sound at the beginning of words appearing in succession


a figure of speech in which words repeat at the beginning of successive clauses, phrases, or sentences


The use of multiple words with the same root in different forms.