Forgive the Cameraman

You are

Better than that,

Sly tongue poking

The warm milk

Of her cheek

Crazed with

Curdled lust

The ‘phwoar’ of

Fresh likes

Stale meat in

Crimson alleys

Of your web,

Burning film.

Critical, bored,

‘Again, once more,

With feeling!’

The lens, its power

Stunning you like a

Jewel, opiate

‘More...more!’

And the turning of skirts,

Hitched higher, higher

Meshes of girls and

Sentences, jarred

‘This way’

‘Turn to the left’

‘Don’t smile’

The lolling of slightly

Parted mouths,

Your own kink

Powdered sex and the

Haste of makeup

More flashes, daze

Frustration

Amidst the crowd of

Pin-ups, the peeling of

Melting Polaroids

You see the gold blue of

Dainty money

And twirl harder,

Entreat the models

Faster

Throwing rods of lightning at their lashes

The soft jangle in the

Studio just over

You in the skittles

Of scattered coins

Gloating at the placid

Art of your

Digital prints.