Photo by Ioana Cristiana vis Unsplash
The arm is cut open
held out by two thin oil stripes.
O Doctor a scene familiar enough,
so how did you Rijn stumble upon
a scene so well detailed.
Did you go year after year
yearning to satisfy the Doctor,
the viewer,
or yourself Rijn?
Wishing to peak beyond the veil.
Friends or foe
gather near the body,
white uneathry pearl oil
contrasting O Doctor.
A brush stroke creates an imitation
cald in a striking black,
outfit centuries out of date.
But who do you wish to be Rijn?
Doctor or painter,
Master at the body
Or master of the brush,
Living beyond today.
Does the collar
stark white,
contrast to the dark hues
closer to a moral life,
Enticing life,
One you could not have?
A doctor painted,
morality upstanding in the dried white
Rijn, black as O Doctor brushstroke hat
hidden behind
your debts and wives.
What could you smell?
The linesseed oil,
or the rotting flesh?
As those peering closer, eyes mear smudges of oil
must reel at the decay.
But we,
behind the velvet rope
smell only linessed and chemicals from the polished tiles.
Morals,
live in men that peer inside the dead,
to satisfy curiosity.
No morals,
Exist in those
who paint the cadaver
as a means to procure a legacy.
But Rijn, The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp
does not live in grand halls
of Doctors,
rather behind
velvet rope,
snotty kids,
and Foot traffic.
