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WECOME! (Please scroll down for current post.) This blog contains the work of poet Jenne' R. Andrews and several translations from English to Italian of other poets' work, as well as translations of Andrews' work into Italian. Please note the translation widget on the right side of the blog.

Jenne' Andrews is an American poet. In the early 70's she was mentored by the great Robert Bly and Canadian poet Tom Wayman. She has one small press book, Reunion, Lynx House Press, edited by Christopher Howell. A current booklength ms., And Now, the Road, was a finalist for the 2014 Autumn House Poetry Prize.

She has three published chapbooks and a forthcoming chapbook of "Italiana" from Finishing Line Press titled Boca, Voce, Delirio-- Mouth, Voice, Delirium.

Her work has recently appeared in Vox Populi, published by Michael Simms, The Passionate Transitory, published by Robert Wilkinson, Belletrist Coterie and The Adirondack Review.

Andrews was full-time Poet in Residence of the St. Paul Schools. She holds the MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University and is a fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts in Literature.


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

New Love Poem--

After A Long Reticence


After A Long Reticence

Because the luminous aging body
is unreliable,
because its stirrings come in the deeps
of night,
we say that we will make love
tomorrow; you will take
our medicinal Eucharist;

Take, hold, devour that one
gathering herself for transfiguration
 in the burning spring.

We say to each other,
it is time again; risen bread has not
forgotten how it was made, the fresh
flour plump and musky with yeast,
the tang of the wild honey:

nor are the old cottonwoods
dormant; they surge, sprout
into leaf—then, gift-laden bees, freefall
of seed, amber sweat on the boughs.

We hold each other, warm
with promise; it will be tomorrow

when I will bury my face
in your neck
and your fingers surge in me
and my hand over your hand

so that I am luminous again,
the seraphic body
with its tremulous wings, aloft.

How is it that winter
has melted away?
Who made camp
along a river
that holds its breath?

We say to each other,

We are violins in the key
of yearning.  Tomorrow
we will be gypsies at a campfire
with half-strung bows.

Your long fingers, your
virile calling to me
even as I cup you in my hand,
as if I have caught the sweet
rain of Spring, as if we are
liquefying pears
or nectarines with melting flesh--

What is this country of desire
where we are now
after decades of reticence,
each one wondering

if there were a bend
in the river and if you took
that bend, would there
be white water and would
the exalted sinew
of the singing body hold.





copyright Jenne' R. Andrews June 2013



1 comment:

Maureen said...

Everything in this lovely lyrical poem speaks to coming alive.