Maureen McHugh


It starts as the bound book,
the boundlessness of the eternal

fatheró Earth swallowed itself down
like air, my breasts in your hands, what

flesh, what pretty ankles, what palms to
line the face soft, what hand to sweep this

blessing bowl of sky clean of batteró it is your
wrist flicking down circles on the page, time

compassing off around the earth, around expression
bound, around the clouds that roll off like commas,

around these blue thoughts of What are you
looking for and What did you find? Before the stars

broke loose of their constellations, muscled
themselves tight against the blackness that barrels

hard against the chest of nightó as fast fast hurry up as harm
the eyes of your father blink shut and you are gone.

Maureen McHugh is pursuing a degree in English with a minor in Classics. She has previously been published in Stylus magazine and is the editor of University of Maryland's independent literary journal That Far Down. She also assists with teaching lower level poetry workshops.

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