Set-Up

No cheap trick, this.
Expense of time and money.
Expense of expertise.
A rare camerawoman.
Some body braced to be
our victim/model again.
Luck’s liquid kiss.

Our model’s mind
lights on Shirley Eaton,
dubiously detained
on screen by gilded death!
A killer scene for smitten
007 types, if
not exactly what we’ve planned.

Smoothness is out;
a slow deluge conjures
something: this spirit brought
from some forgotten palace
where corruption’s run its course.
One hand betrays imbalance,
a qualm found in the throat;

Set-Up

here’s a fine fever
ravelling up the skin.
This is some martyred lover,
some deity disguised,
or some molten human,
cursed and bravely emblazed,
condemned to burn for ever,

or whatever.
Nudge the depth of field
and the vision blows over.
Hallucinations pass
in a slow slop of gold.
(“No cheap trick, this”,
the raw files murmur...