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 Heather McHugh’s most recent collection of poetry is Eyeshot (Wesleyan University Press, 2003). Among her numerous awards are a Guggenheim Fellowship, NEA grant, and Griffin prize. For over twenty years she has served as Milliman Distinguished Writer-in-Residence at the University of Washington in Seattle. Email a friend >> Printable version >> |
Not to Be Dwelled On
Self-interest cropped up even there,
the day I hoisted three instead of the
two called-for
spades of loam onto
the coffin of my friend.
Why shovel more than anybody else?
What did I think I'd prove? More love
(mud in her eye)? More will to work
(her father what, a shirker?) Christ,
I'd give an arm or leg
to get that spoonful back.
She cannot die again;
and I do nothing but relive. |
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