—after Caravaggio’s John in the Wilderness
at the Nelson-Atkins

The Baptist as a teen
virgin, lambskin draped
over his cherubic

genitals, rests
in a tree trunk, his dark
gaze directing me

beyond the frame
to the halter top and torn
jeans of an art

student standing
near enough for him
to scent her body

spread. Like a serial
killer, he feasts
his eyes upon her.

His pouty lips plunge
along the diagonal
axis of his reed,

his body zigzagged
against the slope
of her shoulders,

the slick of her neck,
as she finishes
her sketch and goes.

His gaze remains
fastened upon the place
where she had been,

penciling him.