The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, by Rembrandt Ekphrastic Petrarchan Sonnet (The [Unfaithful] Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp [if done today and streamed live on Instagram]) The instructor, I deduced his position from how they followed and watched him, gestured with his bony index finger at the torso, now unzipped from sternum to navel, glistening, alive, but it wasn't bleeding. The torso had legs, arms, a head, expensive sunglasses, but no name; I admired how the torso held itself up for inspection. This part of the lecture I knew, Jung's conjecture that our organs give rise to the energies of the unconscious mind. Tawdry tidbits of fantasy birthed from a land of chocolate, mountains, and cows. Smoke leaked from the instructor's ears as he discussed the role of the liver in the genesis of man's facility with geometry. His subject, the torso, belched, his esophagus quivering, mankind had been unzipped, explained, here in this anatomical lecture hall, the din of applause resounded. Unpack the world and reassemble it well, we each repeat, and above us an inscription on the wall: Et in Arcadia Ego. And below: Alea Iacta Est.