Heather C. Krueger (she/they) is a deep-hearted, queer poet whose work explores growing up on a farm, divorce, trauma and embodiment. Heather lives on Treaty 7 territory/Metis Nation Region 3, just outside Calgary, with her two teenagers, two kittens and one big, fluffy dog. She is currently enrolled in SFU’s The Writer’s Studio.
You can read her poem I Had No More Left To Give in the July 2023 issue.
Would you like to tell us a little bit more about your poem? For instance, how or why you wrote it, or perhaps provide some extra context?
This poem began while I was sitting outside watching the sparrows flit around my backyard. I was in the middle of a divorce, my kids were at their dad’s and I was feeling the heaviness of what it means to begin again in the middle of a life.
Do you have a collection of poetry or even a single poem that acts as a touchstone?
I keep coming back to Ellen Bass’ poetry collection, The Human Line. I don’t think there are words for what her poems do to me.
If you didn’t write poetry, how do you think you might access the same fulfillments that poetry offers in your life?
It took me a long time to find poetry, I was nearly 40 when I wrote my first poem and I spent many years searching and trying to fill what poetry eventually gave me. Photography was my first foray into finding my creative self and is still something I love to do. Taking photos was always about telling the story. I suppose if I didn’t write poetry, I would spend more time taking photos again.
What are you working on now?
I had hopes of spending the summer putting together a manuscript that might become a book someday but that’s been put on hold while I heal from a brain injury.
How do you make space for poetry in your daily routine?
I challenged myself to read a poem a day in 2023 as a way of daily immersing myself in poetry. I don’t write every day but it’s amazing how often this act of reading a poem inspires me to write.
What are you reading or watching or listening to lately that intrigues or inspires you?
I sustained a brain injury in May 2023 and it’s completely altered my life. I have a very limited capacity for reading and being on screens but I’ve been devouring audiobooks, including poetry. Laying still, with my eyes closed, listening to an entire book of poetry has been an unexpected gift during this time and I hope this is a practice I continue. My most recent listens have been Jonny Appleseed by Joshua Whitehead, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong and The Hurting Kind by Ada Limon. Each of these audio versions are read by the authors and there’s something so fascinating and inspiring about listening to these brilliant authors read their words.
Have you ever received advice (or has there been something you’ve learned on your own) about writing or revising poems that has made you a better poet? What was it?
I’ve had the privilege of spending the last year in SFU’s The Writer’s Studio with Rob Taylor as my poetry mentor. He continually astonishes me with his insight, humour, wisdom, and the feedback he gives. One thing he said to our workshopping group, early on, that I will always carry with me is that we are workshopping the poem and not the poet. This helped me distance myself from the poem and the feedback and see it in a new, maybe less charged way. It’s been invaluable to my editing and revision process.
In terms of poetic style or craft, is there a big question you are trying to find an answer for?
Maybe the same questions I’m always asking of life: Am I enough? Is there room for me here? Experimenting with style and craft is often a way of trying to find and trust myself. Perhaps it seems self-indulgent, but I try to think of it as a way to challenge myself to become a better writer and ultimately, a better human.