broodings

artistry in anatomy

in their words he heard shakespeare,
in their body he saw picasso,
in their moans he listened to beethoven,
in their cool, smooth skin he felt michaelangelo,
in their scars he read tennyson,
in their hair he found streaks of kahlo,
in their eyes he gazed upon austen,
in their pumping hearts he glimpsed silverstein,

he was hoping for something—
in their faces he searched for an artist,
for someone who meant something—
some may call him a slut, a whore,
but he slept with them so he would mean something,
be something, be remembered by someone,
he didn't do it to get a reputation,
he did it so he could see the artistry in anatomy.