A Poet Gets Back in the Saddle


I had a number of children

I was afraid for

I kept them close,

In the backyard

Its peeling blue slatted gates

Adobe wall with a calvary saddle

From my Uncle Pierce—

Each could imagine

riding away,

take her turn there


We had a black and white puppy

To soothe the shyest ones

And people coming by

With popsickles and homemade

Mac and cheese cassaroles

in long glass trays


They huddled together looking out

At the world where other kids

Chased balloons across the horizon

Where bold girls in argyle

rode the tramway

To the top of Sandia Peak


Boys with freckles and wild red hair

Came galloping by

On small hardy horses

Pealing out fake war cries


One day I said to myself

It’s time.

Send them out into the world

And see how they do. You remember

How that is—you did it before


Before they were children

And they were the bright leaves

Of autumn

Or the dissipating flakes swirling over you

In November.


So out into the world I sent

The uncertain little boats

Of my poems

With their big voices

Their long lines

Their crazy first person

Leaning over

Too far.


They disappeared over the horizon.

Now, earth wheeling

On its unseen dais

I wait for word of an adoption

or their disconsolate return

Soothing the one within

Half-written and uncertain


That wanted to stay home

With me:

When you’re ready

My foundling, my prodigy,

I promise.


draft 9/30/2010

Jenne’ R. Andrews rights reserved.

*banner:  Moondust Goldens, Netherlands