The Muse

SHE is a bacchante, beautifully nude,
laid out on the pelt of a leopard.
A wreath of holly 'top her head,
berries red as her wanting lips.

SHE is a fairy on dragonfly wings,
poured from a bottle of absinthe.
Her glamour stirs my will to action.
Dreams manifest in astral fire.

SHE is the beauty behind the veil,
the whore who rideth upon the beast,
her body an altar of trembling blood.
Devils fly out of her split womb.

SHE is the virgin blessed by a dove,
who gives the milk of her breasts
to the dying beggars. A saint, surely immortalized by the love of God

D.N. Knight