Roll up! Roll up! Tonight's attraction,
Authentically posing in the focus
Of the imaginative window frame:
Cold centre-fold gloss glass.
Behold! It moves, sleek, sensual,
Through the stained world of men's fantasies,
Walking amongst and yet above us,
A ring of condescending confidence.
It feeds on the hot, foetid breath of lechers,
The sticky seminal thoughts of the innocent,
Alchemically transmuted into shimmering purity
And the virginal charm of a blazing smile.

Yet that glorious husk holds two selves:
One preserving image in pickled posterity,
Setting the public line of jaw and hip;
One that holds its sagging tearful head
Wearily above the painful tide,
Gazing emptily through the cloudy stars,
Searching for the night of shimmering amour
Which will penetrate the splendid cocoon,
And, bursting, baptize the body with warmth.

Maybe then I won't need to associate
Beauty with callousness and posing,
And let men's fantasies, including mine,
Eulogize the perfection of Nature's Chosen.