“I keep trying to read the tea leaves greening
the lukewarm belly of the mug—”
Read and listen to the rest of the poem at Drunken Boat.
Love,
Jenn
22 Sep 2015 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: contemporary poetry, healing poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, miscarriage poetry
“I keep trying to read the tea leaves greening
the lukewarm belly of the mug—”
Love,
Jenn
16 Sep 2015 Leave a comment
in Poems, Published poems Tags: Chicana poetry, contemporary poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, Mexican American poetry
I’ve been working like a madwoman sending out my poems into the world nearly as long as my son has been alive (I started submitting when he was one, so I mark my poetry career by his life, because truly, I’m not sure either would have been possible without the other–how the imaginary shaped reality, how I wrote my story into existence, realizing we could adopt after writing poems about being a mother and mourning the children we’d lost to infertility and miscarriage)… Anyway, all of that to say, since he’s been alive, I’ve now published poems in one hundred journals! Today my work went up at Origins Journal, marking this moment for my poems–and I’m so thankful. For the life that brings the poems, and for the poems that keep giving to my life.
“Your body is a knife—
both slicing point
& handle.” –from “Self-Defense”
Thank you for reading!
Love,
Jenn
15 Jun 2015 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: contemporary poetry, healing poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, marriage poetry, miscarriage poetry, mother daughter poetry, motherhood poetry
The mother spreads her arms and waits — hoping
at the top of a hill — for a mend
in the empty break of sky.
–from “Sewing Feathers” (read the full poem in Waxwing).
We lived our first existence as if on an island —
the waving flag of a companionship
always sinking.
–from “After the Miscarriage II” (read the full poem in Waxwing).
Love,
Jenn
15 Apr 2015 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: contemporary poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, Mexican American poetry, motherhood poetry
The
n I remembered: Mama wasn’t gone
but safe, in her bed, turning in sleep. It was Iwho went away—from Chopin in the bones,
palms heavy with dates like darkpurple fingers reaching toward sand…
29 Mar 2015 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: Divorce Poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, Mexican American poetry, surreal poetry
She opened the door wider, allowed
him in—dragging his fish, his strings of light,
his wounds—from the rain.–Jenn Givhan
18 Mar 2015 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: contemporary poetry, Family and children, healing poetry, Jenn Givhan, Jenn Givhan poetry, Mexican American poetry, mother writers, motherhood poetry, Native American poetry, New Mexico poetry, Sacagawea
Sacagawea emerges from the hedgehog cacti
in the lot behind our crumpling house
heavy with cradleboard & mistaken
for a token of peace…
from “Bird Woman”
The boys next door are ignoring my son.
It’s playground politics, the fragile and shifting
power dynamics of these early friendships…
from “Bloom”
Read both poems at The Boiler.
05 Dec 2014 Leave a comment
in Published poems Tags: contemporary poetry, Family and children, healing poetry, Jenn Givhan poetry, motherhood poetry
I unwrap a bar of amaranth soap
and wash my own mouth
the way Mama used to do when I’d been profane…
–Jenn Givhan
(Read full poem at The Collagist)