Dance With Me

Jerrifaye Gregoire

While blue satin slips
over my swells and curls,
you glide over me,
breathing life into my body.

I dance to tempo of swing in sunlight.
Nights seem spent in formal wear
as you slide me
back and forth across the horizon
to slow, smooth, steady tango beats.

Nobody can sense my moods like you.
Either our tranquility is celebrated
or our wrath is feared.

Then satin rips and rolls away.
Dance is forgotten.
Our rage leaves scars
when all I really want to do
is lie serene beneath satin.

Lavish me the sun and moon
in diamonds and pearls.
Breathe on me.
Hold me sway.
Dance with me.


Jerri is a southern belle, 46, married to a Cajun living southeast of New Orleans. She has a married daughter with children and works part-time as a master floral designer. Family, friends, reading and writing take up the rest of her time. Fall is spent in LSU’s Tiger Stadium. Jerri can be reached at jfgjerri[at]

Three Poems

Jerrifaye Gregoire

Forever Changed

Chaste in familiar sands
searching for treasures,
building sandcastles,
she waits for her voyage;
as moon-inspired tides
of perpetual curls and swells
shape her, without notice.

Young men stand by
to captain her ship.
One offers a chest
rich with promises,
beckons her to explore his sea.
The winds refuse to blow,
leaving her grounded ashore.

Without the winds to guide her,
she releases the towrope
of safety and drifts into perilous
uncharted waters with him.
She surrenders to currents,
watching as flotillas of affection
turn into anchors of ownership.

Innocent and with abandon
she plunges into the sea
and proves most daring,
swimming the swift strong surf
where others fear to tread,
never realizing how quickly
turbulent undertows can conquer.

Intoxicated by potent wet spirits,
he seizes her completely,
taking her deeper and deeper
into tumultuous waters,
reaching the point of no return.
Engulfed totally,
she submits to him.

No longer innocent,
tainted by his tidal wave,
she returns to shore
from her maiden voyage
with a new sea surging
and swelling inside her:
forever changed



A dowry of tokens
feet under your table—

in a gesture of agreement
I accept round after round,
dole out tokens of me
hope for safe secure hands
and rewards

card concealed
a table advantage
bit by bit
lose all I am
never secure
my cards
will avoid a beating
cards of chance
until I leave, it’s:

“Hit me one more time.”


An Unspoken Covenant

Neither remembers the moment
their approach changed
too busy to notice
Thoughts and feelings
no longer sought
looks, touches of a hand
an arm around a shoulder
Loyalty remains
Bygone intimacies
fade from thought
an unspoken covenant
speaking in any real sense
would cease
Comfort, ambition
the finer things
Beyond matters
directly affecting
smooth acquisitions
they did not talk about it.
They did not talk.


Jerri can be reached at jfgjerri[at]