After the Revolution
© 2004 Sandra Jean-Pierre for D.P. I’ll write for you not of familiar revolutions or emptying liquor bottles laced with full gun barrels in dizzying cahoots over which won’t take your life next… Instead I’ll write of after… when hot showers make the revolutionary...
Old Friend
© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre For Chris G. On the Sahara plain we were tribesman sharing stories of the hunt beneath crooked-sparse shade trees maybe... we were women in South America tending the men, nursing the children, feeding our families from the Earth while sharing...
Hands
© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre My hands… like unsuspecting landmines trigger explosions on the landscape of your body in slow motion as my semi calloused palms glide across the ocean of your skin, un abating to your tides and tremors I begin my work of soothing out your...
Left Behind
© 2008 Sandra Jean-Pierre No Not in that same place- the barefoot on wet shower floor space the dry heaving, chest collapsing place not that half sleep/stumbling pace Not from that place where these lips crack from neglect and under/use where this brow furrows from...
Brown Baby
© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre Brown baby Brown baby Brown baby Brown baby… It’s not supposed to happen this way but day twelve looks back at me while I look at them with no way to explain why beans and rice were too much of a luxury to have on the same day… …in this...
Phenomenolly Me
© 2002 Sandra Jean-Pierre Just the way sunlight captures my eye or the gentle warmth of my smile, not fashion model perfection, not Vogue magazine style – Just Me. Maybe it’s the way I strut my stuff, rolling down the way bad as I need to be, not being Ms.America...