Janice Colman is a Toronto artist and writer. She is a practising editor and has successfully
brought the work of other poets to publication. She has completed a work of narrative nonfiction,
Naked Words, and she is completing a  collection of erotic and general poetry, Head Strong
Poetry, that will be ready for publication by September 2006. Upcoming publications of her
poetry will be in Clean Sheets and a British anthology published by Dogma Publications this
September. Her website, which lists excellent resources for writers, is  
hosted by Web for Authors. Janice is the mother of two wonderful daughters.   
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"She’s Into Love"
by Janice Colman©

She’s into love. Dressed, her clothes sliding
silk, she thinks of his hands skimming
her skin, he believes he can radiate
dangerous powers startling all
in black. She is naked

before his eyes; she is a quivering leaf
lacking strength, folding in at the knees, her cunt
turning over, starting and restarting. She is
a trembling cunt, a throat, the nape
of a tender neck, a mind where images

collide. A seeking tongue without words, legs
apart, legs tensed, veins coming
tributaries on a raring downward
course, caught
in the net of his glance, her eyes
the wanderings of his soul.

A soul searches for a lifetime, gliding
over land sinking  into oceans silently
soaring, slow dancing over to rest
gently on a disarming prick. And if
he whispers in his low voice,

she will come in the rumblings
of his timbre, lighting upon
his unyielding soul. When a man enters
a woman, his cock leaves
a mark, a memory a measure. Sits
country swinging inside, rocking her

to the heavens and back that she
might sing the only song of “oh and honey
sweetie and yours.”  When a man’s heart
finds its point in his prick with its mark
arranged, searing past barriers streaming
through a woman’s cunt flashing

with the speed of light clear through,
in that moment life is what
it is meant to be, has substance,
power, lacks certainty, appearing frail
trembles: a quivering leaf.

The woman arches and aches,
is his, can be taken surging
with swaying motion opening. Again
and again deeper, a midday sun's burrowing,
heat streaming always summer, yet ever

a shady spot,  a wraparound porch with
one of those gliding chair swings. A cunt
is a place  to stay in, find repose, gather
music. And this morning with clothes
over, she is Naked for him.