Dearest Charlotte

Drops of blood splatter the page,
As the vicious man draws his knife.
Eyes focused and precise,
Tongue gently brushing lips,
Moisture gliding upon smooth waves,
His mind will soon destroy him.
And he sees the white angels falling...
They drop onto his exposed vein,
To produce purging thrust of vapor’s call,
The silvery dust of Charlotte’s leaves,
The delicate spright of their molecules’ delight.
Her name calls to him,
And the sweet shake of Charlotte in his mind,
Erases red wounds of fantasy’s needs,
The ether of a malignant universe past,
Where space joined the Divine,
And history was the document of terror,
To ground thoughts of love, self worth, and happiness.