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1/31/2026 4 Comments

Poetry by Nancy Huggett

Picture
Cindy Shebley CC




Step One (of the Twelve), 1985

In a field outside Crookston, Minnesota, 
my brother, me. The wideness 
of indigo sky—a rusty darkness 
like a half-ton truck parked 
under a spark of stars at night. 
Me, the oldest, he against his will 

and angry. The scar on his skull 
pulsing with every fuck you he flings 
into the field. Fuck you. Fuck this. 
Fuck Mom. Fuck Dad. Fuck rehab. 
Fuck them. Fuck lunch. Fuck dinner.
Fuck every step. All 12. Fuck. You. 

When a flying thing with feathers 
lands on my left shoulder, brushes 
her soft wings across my mouth, 
shushes me so I will listen

to the hiss of heat from 
my brother’s mouth, the red hot 
stone of his loaded heart, the need 
napalming through his veins
as he paces a path in the tallgrass.

The feathered thing then turns 
my head toward the horizon where
I can see the fire creeping 
through the prairie.

​



Massage

I’ve come to lift the weight, I say, 
my shoulders tense from carrying. 
No injured parts. Just this frictive life--
worries fraying my telomeres, unravelling 
my being. She anoints, pours oil, pushes 
her probing thumbs along the muscles 
that line my spine. Presses hot spots, 
trigger points—my knots persistent fists 
of endurance. She kneads the too-stiff 
dough of me, unwinding fascia, time, 

that ancient wound. She releases 
rhomboids, trapezius. Unpacks 
the scapula. We both startle 
at the snap. Tight-packed wings 
a burst of feathers choking this 
small dim room. First—pulse 

then lift    thrust              
                                                            flight.

​


Nancy Huggett is a settler descendant who writes and caregives on the unceded Territory of the Anishinaabe Algonquin Nation (Ottawa, Canada). Published in Event, Poetry Northwest, SWIMM, and Whale Road Review, she’s won some awards (RBC PEN Canada 2024 New Voices Award) and a gazillion rejections. She keeps writing.  



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4 Comments
Jessica Whipple
2/2/2026 06:13:00 am

As always, these are beautiful.

Reply
Tracy Basile
2/2/2026 07:08:49 am

Birds as messengers. Their landings and lift offs. Powerful, and beautiful. So powerful.

Reply
Joanne Durham link
2/3/2026 05:54:45 am

All those wonderful, multi-layered feathers, Nancy!

Reply
Marg
2/3/2026 11:21:37 am

Love these and thanks so much for sharing.

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