We Are Frail

She is brittle & she is still bared –
she was unfurled [then exposed]
enough for magazine publishers
to earn off her coyness – a crime
to let quaint Honour turn to dust
No gilt frame / She singed minds
as she lit up a tawdry stronghold
of gin-sopped members & others
A luminous giantess over thieves
Light does not linger long unless
it scars someone / She cools her
bared back in private – not meant
for voyeurs / We grabbed at her –
cruel – sex-creeps – seeking thrills
by bravado’s drunk calls [Bollocks
to Lamarr & Others] Her unsettled
identity was sold by red top sales
[Keeler junctures of snapped skin
& disconnections] & she careened
from clubs & parties past one-eye
tricking followers – rash snappers’
captures / But [still] her apologies
bubble between bursts – but better
appears from living now – not from
ploughing our rum sins or tempers
We rip our surface until blood runs
out [clots]/ We turn as shells – frail