Blackberry Beads

Blackberry beads stain my lips.
They stain my neck.
They stain my breasts.
A sun-kissed sir planted them there.
Without caution and without care.
They are the markers of a morning's glory,
At height of flower --- obsession only.
The oblong lattice pattern shaped
A moment's love,
a moment's haste.
'Two can play at this game,'
I said as we flung our arms and limbs so wide.
Reaching, grasping, rolling, falling,
Blackberry beads scattered to both sides.
My arms stretched only towards the sky.
Except,
the sky was white putty plaster,
With ripples and waves from oceans long gone.
And as you planted your blackberry bastards
I clutched as if possessed by storms.