In trying to sum up what our aesthetic at Live Nude Poems will be, we are drawn to the idea and function of poetry. In our opinion, we’ve always believed that poetry must serve a purpose – to enlighten, to explain and by doing so, bring a greater understanding of self. We have a job to do as poets, even if only to better know our own humanity. We're certainly not here to argue what art is or why we write. We write because we have to, and the work is unique to each of us. Knowing that, we would like to showcase poetry that breathes and presents moments in time, work that helps us understand you, tells a story, changes the reader--if only for a second.
My mother made herself the deer with a broken leg We saw a deer through the pane into someone else’s yard. The leg moved like a tube sock pinned to the hip and half filled with sticks. I did not like to see it suffer, either. She was upset —my mother —that no one helped the doe. Was it a mother, too? As if we were the first to observe the scene. We weren’t. All had been told to let her be. My mother had suffered a destruction of the self, a divorce, and no one cared. That wasn’t true. We were grown, on our own. I agree it was hard. Yet in those moments of a cold November day, we watched a doe, disabled and enduring, walk across a yard and eat a hedge. I wish she could have seen it like that. Amy Holman is the author of the collection, Wrens Fly Through This Opened Window (Somondoco Press, 2010) and four chapbooks, including the prizewinning Wait for Me, I’m Gone (Dream Horse Press, 2005). Recent poems have been in or accepted by Blueline,