My love
is rosewater
and butter mint, eyes
of a thief, not Japanese
fans, large
well-written
well-played hands.
His soul, heavy
upon me, my heart
struggling, expanding. My love
holds it safely, rolls
and sways me, rubs
substance under my
aching ribs, he
twists the time, arms
thrice around me, my right
breast is perfect
now for sleeping – sleep
of bruised lips, we sleep
like stirring.
He paints my night
sky, and blazons our waking.
jenifer.wills 
February 14th, 2013 at 5:12 pm
I like this . . . “we sleep like stirring.”
March 22nd, 2013 at 8:23 pm
I just love the first stanza of your poem!!
September 24th, 2014 at 6:10 pm
Awesome blog! Do you have any suggestions for aspiring writers?
I’m planing to stadt my oown website soon but I’m a little lost on everything.
Would you propose starting with a free platform like WordPress or go for a paid
option? There are so many optons out there that
I’m completely confused .. Any recommendations?
Appreciate it!