Andrew Hudgins

Andrew Hudgins teaches at Ohio State University. His most recent book is American Rendering: New and Selected Poems. In June, Simon and Schuster will publish The Joker: A Memoir and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt will publish A Clown at Midnight.

Winter 2013

Lord Byron’s Boots

By Andrew Hudgins

From their display case, John Murray VI removed his obit said, Lord Byron's boots from time to time, and smeared hard black wax on dry two-hundred-year-old leather, working it into […]

Spring 2010

Stalin’s Laughter

By Andrew Hudgins

At the secret policeman’s feast, Pauker sagged, drunk, between two officers, as he aped Zinoviev, hiccupping hilariously and staggering over watery, risible feet as he was dragged to the firing […]

Summer 2001

A Flag of Honeysuckle

By Andrew Hudgins

From the brush pile I wrestled                 brittle limbs and shoved them in the chipper. As I worked down the six-month pile of sticks, a slender […]

Summer 2001

They Must Be Poetry

By Andrew Hudgins

A pigeon-colored dawn, and two generals march —are marched—           between sandbags to a wooden post. Klimovsky notices the post is splintered. Soon       […]

Spring 1998

Hail

By Andrew Hudgins

Begonias and impatiens:            snapped. The hostas: shredded.      Oak leaves crumpled on flat grass. Caladiums: stripped to red stems,                two limp pink pennants dangling from crimped stems, and three birds hammered […]

Spring 1998

The Lake’s Ancient Song

By Andrew Hudgins

Come walk      where no one walks. Come stroll across the lily pads, a green shortcut      to where the green frog sings and water skimmers skate,             as you will too, across […]

Spring 1998

Poem

By Andrew Hudgins

POEM When the weak lamb dies, the shepherd skins the body, stretches the skinned fleece like a little lamb suit over an abandoned lamb, the lamb’s front legs jammed through […]

Summer 1991

Tree

By Andrew Hudgins

I’d like to be a tree. My father clinkedhis fork down on his plate and stared at me.“Boy, sometimes you say the dumbest things.” You ought to know, I muttered, […]

Summer 1991

Salt

By Andrew Hudgins

As I dashed after sparrows, flingingsalt from the shaker, they hopped sidewaysand hardly noticed. My uncle shouted, “You’ve got to sprinkle it on their tails!” I stalked them back and […]

Winter 1987

Cargo

By Andrew Hudgins

Stones echoed on the inside walls. We shiedthem through the doors of three wrecked freightsthat lay, wrenched and abandoned, in the creek—the cargo gone, the milo, wheat, and cornunloaded, delivered […]

Winter 1984

Consider

By Andrew Hudgins

You have considered the lilies of the field, how they do nothing for their splendor and how they shine like moons upon their stalks, arrayed in the exacting glory of […]

Summer 1982

Bolus

By Andrew Hudgins

Out looking for the latest placethe hen has found to hide her eggs,I see a bolus near the barn.An owl had coughed the gray ball up. Hungry, the cat pulls […]