WELCOME! BENVENUTI!

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 .

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

New Poem: Making Dinner, for DVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night


 
Making Our Dinner

I turn the dough of love again and again
until it is warm
laboring like a Hopi matriarch
she who bakes
in a radiating sun
that writes novenas across her
boot-sole face.

I pour cranberries into a saucepan
Turning up the heat of their fate
adding a minor avalanche of sugar.

And even as I call to mind
the first bars of Thank We Now Our God
my ruby fruit pops and sings
just as a pinon fire would
the flint-sparks of mouth on mouth, hands
traveling the staircase of a spine.

Someone else ran down the bird
and snapped its neck and hung it up
to bleed and pluck
so that I might work with breast cutlets
white as the thighs
of an inviolate Venus:

Into beaten egg they go, then flour
searing themselves in butter.
everything has given itself
for this.

And is it better than the larded
knot of game I brought to you in
the old days;
Is it good now that the last horse
has gone off in the carrito de la muerte
and the sheds have aged so that they
lisp toward the light like impotent old men?

The ones we feed surely forgive us
our manifold sins and weaknesses,
unadorned halls filling up
with plainsong
carillons stirring
down in the dusk village

The town becomes when its many
winter bones
ache for second-chance kisses
on high blue burn.






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7 comments:

Maureen said...

I especially like your opening stanza, with its turning of the "dough of love" and the vivid visual of the Hopi matriarch. Nice connections between warm, bakes, radiating sun, and the strong visual of the "boo-sole face". The heat imagery and sensations are well-maintained throughout the poem.

That fourth stanza erupts the poem into violence, which seems especially stark against that "white as the thighs /of an inviolate Venus", and then there's a sense of the fire/light dying, yet by the end still some hope to rise like the phoenix from the ashes (I like "second-chance kisses / on high blue burn").

The "staircase of a spine" is memorable, as is "ruby fruit pops and sings/just a pinion fire would".

Brian Miller said...

smiles..lovely descriptions...sheds have aged so that they
lisp toward the light like impotent old men...nice...and i like the progression of this from the intimacy of cooking to who took it...to the town and the feel...i like jenne...

Laurie Kolp said...

I absolutely LOVE the first stanza. Happy Thanksgiving!

Divalounger said...

Each stanza has its own magic for me, but the first stanza sets the tone for the whole piece--beautiful work.

Audrey

Shawna said...

I love, love, love this:

"turning up the heat of their fate
adding a minor avalanche of sugar"

I think I'm in trouble; I hardly ever cook anymore: "Those we feed surely forgive us our manifold sins and weaknesses"

Nice ending lines: "and second-chance kisses on high blue burn"

Shashi said...

I liked the poet and the verse. The imagery is so beautiful... Its good to connect with her words...


Shashi
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/11/whispers-sighs.html
At Twitter @VerseEveryDay

ayala said...

Nice write. Loved the first stanza.
Happy Thanksgiving!