Remembering Renee Good: A Poet’s Legacy Amid Tragedy
Charlie Riedel/AP
Anna Donigan stands in protest during a gathering in Kansas City, Missouri, honoring Renee Good, who tragically lost her life in an encounter with an ICE officer in Minneapolis.
The Life and Work of Renee Good
Before becoming a poignant headline, Renee Good was celebrated for her literary contributions. In 2020, she received the Academy of American Poets Prize for her insightful poem, On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs.
Her work, known for its humor and depth, explores the intersection of science and spirituality, posing the question, “Can I let them both be?” This week, as her life is remembered, her words resonate with those who knew her as a devoted mother and partner.
A Glimpse into Her Poetic World
On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs
i want back my rocking chairs,
solipsist sunsets,
& coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches.
i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores
(mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp-
the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind):
remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils,
& salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms.
under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat
ribosome
endoplasmic-
lactic acid
stamen
at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills-
i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut-
maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul.
it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead.
can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom
now i can’t believe-
that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”–
all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as:
life is merely
to ovum and sperm
and where those two meet
and how often and how well
and what dies there.
A Lasting Impact
Renee Good’s poem, On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs, captures her unique voice and perspective. At 37, her life was cut short, leaving behind a family who described her as “made of sunshine.” Her legacy continues through her words and the memories of those who loved her.
