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 .

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Christmas Post -- fable/poem

The Gospel of the Nativity According to the Minnow

We wanted to stay safely in our schools in the coral cities.  We knew nothing of those shell-dwellers who made pearls out of loneliness, or those nomads who traversed the sea floor by means of one prehensile foot apiece. 

We measured our hours in light piercing the wrinkled surface and if a shadow crossed we swam as one to a hollow where we made ourselves blue like the water.

A predator swam by, its jaw shoveling plankton from the bottom.  Ballerina jellyfish taunted us with the reenactment of Swan Lake , but we held fast. And the manta flashed the semaphore of its liberty at us, as if its trident held no venom.

Safety in numbers and in turning right on a signal together and left then, darting just ahead of the maw of the tiger shark. Only the dolphins could trap us in a confusion of bubbles, laughing, our nemesis and devourer.

Then You came.  And tore our world asunder.  You came as a man overboard from the shipwreck of a distant star. 

And Your captain’s uniform tore away and the waters parted and Your hand felt for us, discerning our hiding places. 

Your touch made us drop our scales, grow legs and scramble toward the surface. 

It was then that You found me and formed me with but one pinch of Your thumb and forefinger. You delivered me to the surface and held me there, breathing into my mouth, speaking into my ear. 

What is this that has come to pass, the others asked.

They clambered away to the lava embankments of an island,  turned and began spearing their own kind, roasting them on an open fire. 

But You stayed their hands and You  hovered over me and You made me not human but something that swims just beneath the surface with streaming hair and golden eyes.

And I have known You and with my small mouth, I sing of You all my days.

Copyright Jenne’Andrews Christmas Day 2010
All Rights Reserved


Maureen said...

An amazing piece, Jenne.

dustus said...

Beautiful writing from start to finish. Thank you for sharing, Jenne.

jen revved said...

thanks, Adam! ditto-- i'll make rounds when off dial-up...grrrr....