thelesbianlifestyle.com

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre
Down to river
slowly we tread,
I in back, you in the lead
Untidy bundles
upon our backs, beneath our arms
I carry the buckets,
You the washing powder…
In silence,
we minister to the sweat stains,
the work stains, the aroma of our human-ness
cloudy swirls
on rivers’ surface,
wash down and out and away,
leaving river clear again…
In tandem
we develop our rhythm,
yet
through the [...]

© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre
hip-joints sore
but I won’t begin
by complaining
$350.00 Armani suit
scattered on the floor,
but I won’t continue on
whining
the weight of your torso
between my butterfly-ed legs
your breasts resting on my steady belly
head dozing on my tender breasts
but I won’t bore you
with cum-plete details
of how I find myself
waking up to being entangled
in you…
hours later,
I stroke my index [...]

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre
Forgive me Father,
for I have sinned…
It has been half a year since I last tasted the salts of a woman.
It has not been for lack of effort
or torment of soul,
for truth be told,
I hungered for her vernal flesh with my entire being.
The way her back
curves soft,over me in the moonlight,
I have been [...]

© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre
It was like it always is: seething agony touched with desire. The faces changed or the perfume was familiar, besides that, it was the same. Except this time, this time there was no giving in, not really. Not until it was the right time or the right place, if ever the right [...]

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre
Whitish-grey smoke curled around the tar-black shards of wood. The heat was just beginning to cool enough to allow anyone near the rubble.
She squat down near the seething mass. Maybe trying to inhale the last living bits of what was, maybe trying to make sure it was all done. Being there in [...]

There is another woman’s scent in my nostrils
on my upper lip
my tongue - inadvertently
See it was a hug
and I was caught off guard
between the squash chicken noodle soup
and the Tropicana grape juice
She came from behind
hugging me
and I
turned head first into the crook of her neck
into the pulse of her body
into the belly of her scent
and [...]

© 2005 Sandra Jean-Pierre
I sit and look out the window.
The world is happening again. The world is moving, humming like I am not here. Like I should not worry about existing… like I am right where I am supposed to be. Between the car honks in f minor and the rumbling city noise, the world [...]