I want to turn the photo over
and see you from the other side:
The eyes that look back at the camera
and take pictures of their own,
with depth and detail and colour definition
that no lens can hope to capture.
Beneath your clothes,
there is pornography galore.
If I could step inside the frame,
I would need no imagination;
just a sensual interpretation
of tongue and fingertips
delving beneath your glossy surface.
Your image is compliant
to the greasy slick of touch and taste,
yet remains inviolate.
The corruption is my own.