I want someone I can turn into art
splice him into shapes
assemble him again:
       slightly askew
 
I want to impasto his body
into thick strokes
lather on the touch;
textured wetly
 
I want to rinse out his eyes
replace with cyan
drips from a sharp nib:
pinpointed deep
 
I want to Baroque him in gold leaf
all fired shimmery
theatre in repose:
gilded in heat
 
I want Pollock impulses
tenderised by water lilies
a soul on virgin canvas
       stretched taut
 
I want someone I can turn into art
stencilled with precision
and my name a smeary triumph
       on the bottom right corner.