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Jenne' Andrews is an American poet. She has three published chapbooks including the recent Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, Finishing Line Press 2013.

A full-length collection, Reunion, Lynx House Press, was published in 1983; after a long hiatus to raise Golden Retrievers in Colorado, recent work has appeared in The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and Vox Populi, a journal of culture, politics and poetry published and edited by the august Michael Simms.

A bilingual collection of "Italiana," Bocca, Voce, Delirio, with translations by Lorenzo Luciani, will be released by Finishing Line at the end of 2016 and her latest collection, And Now, the Road, a finalist for the Autumn House prize in 2014, will be released by Salmon Poetry Ltd, Ireland, a highly regarded international house, Jessie Lendennie, Publisher, circa 2017.

Andrews holds the MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University, is a literary fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts, and was full-time Poet in Residence for the St. Paul Schools from '74-78. She lived in St. Paul from 1971-78 during the first wave of the Twin Cities literary renaissance, and spent the summer of 1973 in Reggio Calabria, Italy.

The poet lives in northern Colorado's Poudre River Valley with her husband, fiction writer Jack Brooks; the couple has recently imported two British Golden Retrievers and expects a litter in June-- see the Ardorgold website for details. Contact: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com .

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Poem for Sunday and Magpie Tales- Making Peace

Many thanks to Tess Kincaid for yet another wonderful prompt at Magpie Tales.

Summer Evening   Edward Hopper 1947



Making Peace

1947, two years out from the Armistice, a year
After the Albuquerque wedding
They stood together on the porch of the rental

They had painted all day in the heat
Fresh green trim dried on the door
The window frame left for tomorrow.

He said it won’t be easy
She said I know that darling
But I’m all for dreams coming true, he added,
Swatting kamikaze moths
Away from the porch light.

Cicadas buzzed in the dusty cottonwoods.
Traffic hummed out on the boulevard
Along the Rio Grande.

I’m dirt poor, he reminded her,
Reaching over to stroke her hair.
No, dearest, we’re rich,
She replied,
Turning, standing on tiptoe
Mouth pouting for a kiss.

Together they dragged on Chesterfields
Flicking ashes into the grass.
Is it the right time, he asked.
Is the moon out tonight?

She smiled, taking his hand,
Holding it to her breast.
Pulling him to the doorway.

Love me now, she whispered.
Be my handsome gardener.
Aren’t you pining too
For our very own
Lullabye listener?  









cc


Note: Poet herself conceived in an apartment over a stable in White Bear Lake, MN in September 1947. 




Copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011  jenneandrews2010@gmail.com 

7 comments:

erin said...

these simple moments born over and over again between two people. all the power in the world in such moments. pivotal. ah, love.

xo
erin

Brandee Shafer said...

She was right. They were rich. I hope they are, still.

Brian Miller said...

smiles. an endearing tale...you set the scene well with the little touches like cicadas and cottonwoods...perfect...they are rich for sure...

Kerry O'Connor said...

Hi Jenne, Please feel free to share a poem, old or new, on the open link at Real Toads:

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

Mama Zen said...

Lovely and softly romantic!

Mystic_Mom said...

Oh I love this take on the prompt...so well done! I want to hear more of their story, the lullaby listener's story too! Brava my dear!

C.M. Jackson said...

you had me at ABQ--amazing sweet, sexy and what we all wish for tale!!