Once proud, glamourous and desired,
So surprised to have been lying there overnight,
In the hedge bottom, surrounded by fallen apples:
The very fruit of her performance, persuasion and profession;
Getting damp, sniffed around perhaps by
Curious fox cubs as she shivered;
Unused to the lack of attention and
Neglected, nay discarded, she can still show
Those false, panting last-second pouts, faintly self-damning
And wholly ridiculous in her new environment.
Too two dimensional to keep around for longer than
Lust will stand to attention;
Passed over for the latest new-big-thing fashion:
She was Lily,
Now she’s just a picture.
