Beads

Dark spheres dangle in the air,
slowly twist as if alive.
Each segment glistens
with the same reflection
found in your wide, wary eyes.

Through time and space they inch;
you flinch as coolly comes
their touch upon your skin.
Slick they snake along your neck,
between, around your breasts.
Slow trail they weave across
your trembling bodyscape.

Inexorable is their way
through lush, soft brush.
Your gasp, an audible punctuation
from beyond the shadows
as sinuous they wind
where desire folds over fear
and mingles body's tears.

Onward yet they slither
between the tense ripple
of your thighs, lower still
where awaits a chrysalis.

One by one, they oily snake
deep into this faintly taboo place.

Feel them squirm and roll
as string is lightly tugged
in rhythm to each caress of tongue
upon your quim., though beads
remain within.

When blooms a bud revealing
its own fleshy bead, nectar's flavor
changing, a flower blossoms and
on the other side they emerge,

a moth of senses reeling
before the cast of the moon.