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, July 10, 2012

New Poem: Dos Amantes, for DVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night and Beyond...

James Dean...

Dos Amantes

Dos cuerpos frente a frente
son a veces raíces
en la noche enlazadas

Octavio Paz

We were twelve, the cottonwoods in full leaf,
everywhere the cicadas and their leg-rubbing
evensong; a cooling breeze from the Rio Grande.

She liked the photo of me in the rope swing
in the patio after I was freed from the body cast,
nude there, my legs bowed, in a garden

of volunteer hollyhocks.  Alone together
in the guest apartment over the adobe garage,
we would slip our nightgowns and lie down

under the quilt; lights from the traffic gilding
the dark vegas, we would trade off, she my hidalgo
troubadour from the bootleg album of my father’s

from Mexico, I her James Dean—she was too
fervent too young, sliding down to kiss me open.
I wasn’t ready for this, her tongue like a dove’s

feather. But I kissed her back and deep by instinct,
and ran my hands over her butterfly hips
and she said I had eyes the color of the river.

One night the chulos roaming the boulevard
teased us, looking up at us on the balcony;
we went back in laughing, slipping from  

our fiesta skirts into one piece bathing suits;
she said the body I was already ashamed of
was beautiful and we explored each other

standing in the shadows, our breasts round,
swelling when we lay down to undress
one another, entwined and nude

in the moonlight under the ice-blue sheet. 
Like this, dos cuerpos frente a frente,
two girls body to body, our mouths aching

and ripe, pliant and tender nubs at the cleft
taut and glistening, dark early cherries
swelling on the bough.


Trans. epigraph: 

"Two bodies face to face
are roots entwined in the night."



Claudia said...

you capture the fragility and wonder of that age well - ha - brought back some memories of playing doctor...with boys though..

Brian Miller said...

well now...that was a bit of a magic moment...really well crafted as you go into who you became for each other...kiss you open, whew some nice heat...and i love her thoughts on how you view your body as well...i think we all need those that reassure us in that area...

Anna Montgomery said...

This is beautifully realized. My mother, who is a lesbian, did not have these coming of age encounters, and I think they would have grounded her, helped her come to terms with her identity earlier and given her some confidence.

Anonymous said...

Stunning poem - so many wonderful wonderful lines and images. An age of innocence and desire - so beautifully captured - I can't list them all - dove's feather - butterfly hips. k.

ayala said...

A great capture of youth and sensuality...lovely!

Charles Miller said...

Amazingly tender and filled with the wonder of innocent sensuality. Your description of the sexual play is very loving, erotic and vivid, allowing us to share in the experience without prurience. I love the description of NM, kniwn quite well to me, though not from this perspective:) So true and real. PS you might wish to foitnote vegas and chulos, since many outside NM will not know their meaning. :) This is a lovely poem, crafted superbly.

Beachanny said...

How elegant your images, how sensual the feel throughout. This defining rite of passage so deftly managed, all safeness, all beauty, the realization of womanhood. Your skill with words makes every subject you write about unfold naturally, easily, elegantly. I was caught up in this entirely. Truly beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Hi Jeanne - I don't like to do this, but I wrote a poem about a horse that I meant to do for OLN but didn't have time to. I am only telling you because I always think of you with horses. I don't really know anything at all about horses. The poem is not from my experience. But at any rate, thought of you. k. http://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2012/07/11/colonel-kernel/

Britton Minor said...

Tears I choose not to explain; blindingly beautiful my friend--the unapologetic memory of a an experience so natural and bright that I wish every woman could have it.

Anonymous said...

oooo...lemmetellyaIamdrenched! Sultry - licking mango juice off all sorts of things! Delicious writing.