- Erotic Poetry
- His Masterpiece
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A naked canvas
Blank flesh
Curves rise and fall
The anticipation rising
The first stroke
Sharp
Stinging
A small streak
Then another
And another
Falling fast
Falling true
The artist changes his brush
Flat strikes against round
The speed increased
The blows hollow
The canvas moves with the act
Sweet pain
Sharp pain
Warm pain
Perfect pain
Once more his tactics shift
Soft
Hard
Strong flesh
Strikes down
How true an artist
Using his own hands
Putting himself
His soul
Into the work
He steps back to admire is canvas now marked
Red
Pink
Blue
Grey
The marks raise
The canvas sighs
Left wanting
Left hungry
The artist signs his work with a kiss
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