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Poet's Choice
Not to Be Dwelled On
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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.
(Heather McHugh's poems "Not to Be Dwelled On" and "Half Border and Half Lab" can be found in the November 2007 edition of Poetry magazine. "The Size of Spokane" is from "Hinge and Sign." Wesleyan Univ. Copyright 1994 by Heather McHugh.)




