Women's Work

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 corner of mine eyes,
I spy your scent,
dripping from the precipice of your nose

Being wife,
I stand, grabbing the hem
of my blouse
and wipe your forehead.

This chore,
this cleaning,
we women,
doing this women's work...

Laundered lives,
now hanging and flapping
drying in the yard

I fill the sink,
bathing the vegetables
passing the rinsed ones
for you to peel

You at my side,
I taking the lead

Mine hand on my hip,
the other stirring the pot
fire beneath brewing
nourishment and love

yet

from the corner of your eye
you see my sway,
my exhausted stance

Being, You, wife
offer a chair
allowing me to sit,
taking the spoon from my hand to yours

This chore,
this cooking,
we women,
doing this women's work...

When at last
the night calls and
the stars begin their answer,

we sink deliciously
into our bed

side by side, You and I...

you reaching for me,
I sighing for you

between,
exhaustion our constant bedfellow

yet

Your raw and calloused hand
touches my virgin belly
mine tongue and gentle stroke
finds your lips and mouth

This chore,
this lovemaking
we women,
doing this women's work...

by Sandra Jean-Pierre
©2007

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