In the shade of my freshly grown *******
the protection from the rays of the camera flash
doesn't decrease the heat, it intensifies it, at best
And the flood of sweat drowns my skin in a flash

The contours of my ***** create a valley
A bigger valley he wants as he demands I stretch
my ****. They don't after I repeatedly rally
them. “I can't!” He slaps me. My face etch.

More pictures, he wants, of me playing
with my *******. My ******, the tiny rubbery
pips sieve thought my small fingers, surveying
my hand. As the man captures this awkward discovery.

Packs the camera and gives the money, my fee
Then he grabs and hisses to me to tell nobody