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 .

Friday, September 2, 2011

Poem for Friday Feast and beyond: Psalm of the Caretaking Child

Otter bearing young to shore.

Psalm of the Caretaking Child

You have gone under the house
Where the blind kitten cries
Through the dust and wet and chaff
And brought her out
In your teeth.

You give her fluids
And wrap her up
Against your breast
And feed her like an orphan robin
Her head lolled back
And salt
Rises to your tongue.


Seeing that you
With an eyedropper
Feed the world

A child  looks back at you
From the smudged bathroom mirror
In reproof.

You make her stay on duty
In all weathers
In drought, famine

Following the blind and lost
With casseroles and sweaters

When your dog sickens
And the vet turns away
You hold him to ether
Sprayed on cloth
You seal his eyes
And lay him at the creek

I am not an undertaker
She calls to you
From far away
In the doorway
Of the room where she lives
With the hungry wind


Now that one who tags along
Pulling at your shirt
Insatiable, afflicted
With insomnia
Leverages her demands.

Be my mother
She says,
Reaching for a knife
From deep within the drawer
Of your heart.

Put down the knife
And I will rock you
You say;

I will rock you in the wind
And sing to you
And someone else
Can save the fallen

copyright jenne' andrews 2011  jenneandrews2010@gmail.com


Mystic_Mom said...

Bella! Bella! Brava! How is it that you write my song, as if you heard my heart? This poem is so ME, no wonder I love you Jenne...our hearts are sisters!

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh, Jenne, this is so highly-charged with emotion and humanity. I love these pieces of yours.

Mama Zen said...

There is so much honesty and truth in this. I related to this more than I can tell you.