Softly the blade hisses,
Serpentine steel fangs
Gliding over peach-ripe skin,
Sinking in – claiming –
Injecting not venom but
Liberation.
Freed, freed is she from
The prison of her conscious mind,
Released to rise above
And dance, spirit to spirit,
With the Snakecharmer.
Eyes locked, they move –
Whirling together as Dervishes
In ecstasy –
Sinuously intertwining with the haunting echoes
Drawn forth by the blade arched as a bow
Over heartstrings,
Her quickened pulse pounding
Fervent beats against ribbed drumskin
While fluttering fingers key crescendos
Into the air around their bodies.
Once, twice and again flicks the blade –
A conductor’s baton shaping a symphony
Of flesh, blood and breath,
Each measure scored into limb
And sung into life on gasping cries
Before the last note fades into resounding silence.
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