Your sister knows I have them, she wants them.
I think it was she, whom called the tabloids.
Does she do it for the money?
She has done much, much, worse things, why
do they not want her celluloid stills, to graze.
I have these pictures, I had forgotten you, could bend like that.
Now that you are famous, reading this letter, Internet splashed
are the pictures pealed off, 'I must keep the negatives, though it is
not for the money.
Now that you are gone could you call your new friend for me..?
This new camera, winks even better than the last one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't know why I wrote this doggerel! Nor why you are so famous- your photo staring at me from every magazine cover in the land? There are no negative images any more, you tell me. Everything's on the internet- just hit PRINT and there you are! Bulging eyes and mottled skin upturned lip in a sneer Is it poetry?