"And Cut..."

To his Leading Lady


I may not be much to look at,
at the trendier cocktail parties,
since wit is still no match for what,
despite political correctness.

But once you choose to speak
my lines, to occupy my frame,
you are intellectual property. Each
take is subject solely to my whim.

I cast you, wooed you, would you
move a little further to the left?
That’s nice, and now - repeat.
The lens records, adjust your feet.

How does it feel to know you’re played?

When this is done, and we part ways
if we should meet at yet more soulless
dos, ignore, embrace, gush, praise
or damn me to my face or others’,

we both know how you obeyed
my orders, let me tune you, put
your secrets on display. Laid
open, you were treasured

only inasmuch as your poor
beauty fleshed my dream.



Illustration by Tanner Morrow and can be found here.