Jennifer Gauthier is Ephemera's July Poet

(4 Poems & More)

Welcome readers!

We’re happy to introduce Jennifer Gauthier, our selection for July’s Poetry at Ephemera. Thanks to Jennifer and everyone who submitted in May.

If you’d like to participate, we will be fielding submissions each month to publish one poem per issue from the same poet for the month. Each poet receives a $200 honorarium. For full rules and more info please see our designated post about Poetry at Ephemera. You can also submit via the button:

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Introducing, Jennifer Gauthier!

Writer Bio

Jennifer L. Gauthier is professor of media and culture at Randolph College in Virginia. Her poems appear in Tiny Seed Literary Journal, South 85, Gyroscope Review, Nightingale & Sparrow, The Bookends Review, little somethings press, HerWords Magazine, The Bookends Review, Tofu Ink Arts Press, The Bluebird Word, Eclectica Magazine and Quibble Lit. Media commentary is published on Pop Matters, in Mayday Magazine and The Critical Flame: A Journal of Literature and Culture. Her chapbook, naked: poems inspired by remarkable women (November 2021) is part of Finishing Line Press’s New Women’s Voices series. Her short story, "Cooper's Run" appears in the anthology, Draw Down the Moon (Propertius Press, 2022).
Instagram: @jengauthierthinks

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Artist Statement

Having been an academic for the past 20 years, creative writing feels like freedom to me. In the spring of 2019, I began regularly writing poetry and submitting it to literary journals. I wanted to do something other than scholarly writing, something more creative. Poetry is so liberating: it’s not about constructing an argument or a narrative. It’s about the beauty of words, images, and emotions.

My grandmother was a librarian and taught me to love words. I grew up reading poetry with my mother - e.e. cummings, A. A. Milne, and the British Romantics. Later I came to love the feminist poetry of Adrienne Rich, Audre Lorde, and Pauli Murray. I am also inspired by the work of Mary Oliver and Ada Limon.

My poetry is rooted in the natural world that surrounds me, my relationships with family and friends, and history - particularly the stories that have been forgotten or ignored.

In my practice, sometimes I can be super disciplined, like writing a poem a day in April. Other times, when life is moving too quickly, I have to wait for inspiration to strike. When my life is too loud, I can’t hear the Muse; but she always returns.

I would say that patience, stillness, and wonder are key for writers. So even if you are living a fast-paced life, try to carve out at least 15 minutes a day of your own to reconnect with your creativity. You will be happy you did!

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Poems

Each issue of Ephemera spanning July will feature one poem from Jennifer. After each issue drops, the poem from that issue will then appear here as well. In this case, we’re launching part of Jennifer’s first poem below as a preview before the full issue comes out. This post will remain on our Substack, free to view, for the year. We hope you’ll enjoy these poems and revisit Jennifer’s page from time to time.

Poem 1 of 4

Portrait of me as a fox in the dunes

Mid-stride
black-stockinged legs
outstretched
The setting sun’s rays 
gild my russet flank
A breeze riffles the tansy leaves
as waves crash behind me 
Heart-racing I raise my snout
to catch a whiff of something
carried on the sea air
There –
a sand crab or discarded 
fish head for supper
If I can reach the beach
unseen.

Appears in July.1 of Ephemera

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Poem 2 of 4

Said the bee

We smelled you before we saw you
little girl-peanut butter-lemonade-sweat 
sheathed in July heat 
heart beating and 
lousy with naïve confidence.
All the hive suddenly alive
to your presence.
In no more than a moment
we dove.
We follow you
stunned, running
down the hill to home.
We attack your back
and die trying.
Left behind stingers
and some of our friends, but 
we had to defend
and defend we did.
Taught you a lesson,
gave you a story to tell
about that time 
you went in search of a beehive
and, well, 
found one.

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Appears in issue July.2 of Ephemera

Poem 3 of 4

Ant Dreams

Drunk on honeysuckle fumes and blinded by the bottle tree,
blue glass gashing –
I stumbled, stubbed my toe, and fell.

Nose to nose with a line of ants I lie prone
and with singular purpose they carry me off
like a bit of leaf, to their sandy hill.

Presented to the Queen, I falter,
I don’t speak ant, so I curtsy deferentially
with a polite smile.

Comforted by their orderly industriousness,
(insect OCD?) I fit in,
though outsized for the colony.

I’d like to stay and try a bit of cake,
carried off, from a nearby picnic, 
but it’s time to go.

When I open my eyes, I’m back on the sidewalk,
with a scrape on my knee and the sun still high,
ants absent.

Appears in issue July.3 of Ephemera

Poem 4 of 4

Roundup

When they rounded up the ponies
the pinto stayed clear
hugged the back of the corral
bucked, kicked.
The cowboys huddled and tried again
but that ornery pony wouldn’t budge.

That was me, at seventeen
circled, surrounded
beset by girls with perfect
hair and makeup.
But I ran the other way
down my own path
kicked up my heels
and shouted into the wind:

“I’ll never be taken by 
this roundup.”

Appears in issue July.4 of Ephemera