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1/31/2026 4 Comments Poetry by Nancy HuggettCindy 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. Anti-Heroin Chic is a sponsored project of Indolent Arts, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit fiscal sponsor. Please consider making a one-time tax-deductible donation.
4 Comments
Jessica Whipple
2/2/2026 06:13:00 am
As always, these are beautiful.
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Tracy Basile
2/2/2026 07:08:49 am
Birds as messengers. Their landings and lift offs. Powerful, and beautiful. So powerful.
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Marg
2/3/2026 11:21:37 am
Love these and thanks so much for sharing.
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