McHugh, Heather


I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.

– Heather McHugh, “The Amenities”

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Read this interview with Heather McHugh from BOMB Magazine:

Heather McHugh

Anyone who has talked with Heather McHugh, read her poems and essays, or seen a Road Runner cartoon, knows what it is to feel like Wile E. Coyote, left in the dust as something wonderful, contradictory, and strange dashes by.

Everything obeyed our laws and
we just went on self-improving
till a window gave us pause and
there the outside world was, moving.

– Heather McHugh, “Glass House”

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