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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 .

Monday, May 14, 2012

New Poem: Eggplant Lullaby, for Dverse Poets Pub and Beyond....









Eggplant Lullaby

From the village above the sea, the sunset’s wound, red as
birth, bleeding light. Here, the matriarch Maria emerges;
she had thought to take the steep path down to the piazza

for La Festa di Mama but instead, worked on in the kitchen’s
embracing cloister. Now the teeming garden has called her
into the dusk.  Above all, the melanzane, eggplant dark and

heavy on their bushes, each oval fruit twilight-colored. She
fills her basket and steps to the chair on its driftwood
slats under the lemon tree.  The night bird begins her lullaby

and Maria rocks in the adagio of the sea, as in the blue boat
years back with Arturo, honeymooning beneath Orion,
making together their first-born, tiny Lucia. She remembers

the first enrapt swaddling, the pinning of the blanket with
a San Dimetrio medaglia, from the ancestral village Mosorrofa
trove.  No one to see her; no one ascends the rocky trail. 

She muses over the melanzane, redolent and glistening. She
wraps the smallest in the square of linen folded in her apron.
Guarda, figlia mia. Guarda la luna incantevole,” the night

lark sings. Luminous green lemons, first piercing stars, piccola
melanzana wrapped in linen, pressed to a dreaming breast.





Maria's Dream


notes:  medaglia is the word for medal. the lullaby translated: look daughter, look at the enchanting moon. piccola melanzana means little eggplant. Mosorrofa is a township/section of Reggio Calabria, city at the toe of the boot of Italy, dating back to the Greco-Roman period. 

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012

10 comments:

ChaiLicious said...

This is a beautiful tribute to mothers...how we can easily conjure dreams and memories of birth in other beautiful, or even difficult, circumstances. Thank you, Jenne-a brave, beautiful piece.

Claudia said...

ah this is great...love the weave of italy, atmosphere, giving birth and memory, the piercing starts and piccola
melanzana wrapped in linen, pressed to a dreaming breast..

Beachanny said...

A mother's day lullaby of sorts. It captures the "feel" of mothering without sappiness or sentimentality. In the clean natural smells, colors, and shapes you capture the essence of the feminine here. Exquisite craftsmanship, truly!

Timoteo said...

I've had eggplant three different nights this past week...don't know why, just worked out that way...and now this...is the universe trying to tell me something? What is it about the shape of these that makes me think of you, Jenne?

ayala said...

Lovely write :)

chromapoesy.com said...

This is a vision of motherhood that makes psychological sense to me. As Gay says, without sentimentality, but a deeply connected veracity.

manicddaily said...

Lovely, the little eggplant color of twilight a wonderful totem here --this like a little story as much as poem. Wonderful either way. k.

ps --thanks for the correction at my place! k.

theprimate said...

The whole piece feels like an earthenware amphora filled with the red wine of motherlove ... There is a red rustic warmth that permeates the lines

Brian Carlin said...

The whole piece reads like an amphora filled with the blood of motherlove and the red rustic earth of nature

Alex Dissing said...

Motherly love is a beautiful thing. I like the story-feel of this.