My Beads

My Beads

Erin L George

 

Droplets of springtime dew

tucked in the dampest of webs:

they tumble

one

by one

summersaults between my breasts

two tumblers

flirting with summertime haze

where a beauty queen,

the queen of hearts,

and little girl

fuse

to play dress up

over herbal tea

at high noon

(Barbie's dreamhouse was built on pink plastic)

like kisses of fantasy

pulled from Fabio's evil grin

they slide

one

by one

fingers caught in lust's delicious grasp

five rings of gold

cartwheels of pretension

where an ugly girl

the last one picked

never asked to dance

mates

with a fine-haired prince

at the castle gate

(Cinderella's gown was stolen anyway)

like mini hugs to wrap my soul

reminding me of princess tastes

they cling

one

by one

poised within my nape

riding on my tongue

heavy tidal waves