Author Archives: Stella McHugh

Read my intro to my unique story on a life lived with endometriosis and how I dealt with the devastation it brought into my life. https://stellamchughwrites.com/endometriosis-a-story-of-life-lived/

I know I know the sexyou had beforeme – was the type –where: she stoodexposingher clitorisfrom theother side ofthe room. Pouting –Pornography –ExclaimingCan you come ? You – in the other corneron your kneespenis in hand. I see –the distancebetween your penishand and her pulledback fingers. Like neither ofyou have beenshownSexLoveConnection. She makes you bellycrawloverContinue reading “I know”

That Aint My Dog… And the black girls sit on the wall as an ambulance pulls up on the road behind their backs. Oblivious, they sit pulling at their hair, jumping forward when talking, making overt gestures for No! and Yeah! The girl in the pink top with Dream 1969 blazoned across her chest picksContinue reading “That Aint My Dog…”

Map Do you have a map ?Mine are crumpledfolded wrong, upside down –covers dog eared, place names unclear –Now a days. If – I took my long metal ruler,ripped creased map pages along the sharp edge-left them on the table – You could place each one-arrange inorder that rejectsthis old geography.Form a new landscapewhereneither ofContinue reading “Map.”

Are we? Are we reduced tosolitary states of isolation.Where neitherhave skill or toolto form relationships. Iwantto avoid the wholepainful mess –Go on holiday – fly around the globewith one steady wingdropping to earth – as I see fit –Sit in sunned stone courtyard Wondering –If you are at a morning tablelifting the newspaper andtea cupContinue reading “Are We”

I Saw You I saw you,my old love –Standing –As we didOn Wilberforce Road. The place whereWe talked ofOur childrenNever born.And how –You’d be aLousy father. How we laughedWalked – tipsy –Unknowing. We held one another – in wide smilesembracedlike goodfriends.Looked at myOther loveAcross the road. Said, that is the manSaid, but you are noContinue reading “I Saw You”

Waiting Room. I did not build this roomcraftedfrom my history by your mind. A bus stationwaiting roomfrom my hometown. One row of theatre seats before ahigh wooden counter.Where teenage girls arrive in noisy rushletting warm air out and cold in. Bags hanging from theirclasped fists, collapse onto seats, fits of smiles and silly banter. ForContinue reading “Waiting Room”

Me and You I’ve put all the clothes I’d wearInto the wardrobe –hung them on hangers,brushed out the creases,closed the door.Placed the tinykey on the dressing-table –for you whenthe house abandonedechoing and empty of me. There will always be partsto take out, look at, admire.Feel the weight of fabric, examineseamstress sown hemsand cuffs.Silks, tweeds andContinue reading “Me and You”

Baggage Your careless motherwounds –my savagefather –propels usto grey clouds. Off our heads –Our damage spiralling above. Our love amagnetic field –if I turn from you or you turn from meeither will be propelled by ions –rendered specks of shiny dust thatI can blow from my handleaving itempty. Your back – to my facegives riseContinue reading “Baggage”

Women I wonder what you knowof women.You claim to. My motherHad a large bosomNever showed itTo all and sundry. The only timeWas when she woreV – neck, light blue crimplene,Men would make her smile, she’dthrow her head back in fitsOf laughter my fathernever gave. My Auntshe woreEstee LauderPowdered her nosefrom a gold mirroredCase – herContinue reading “My Mother”