Over the Renée Bow

I was fed up

with the face

of Renée Zellweger

lying on my settee

gazing up at me

with that look

     askance

I was fed up 

with the painted smile,

forearm by her thigh,

one knee raised

creating a red fold

in the satin dress

I was fed up

with the plunging neckline

diving in a crossover

revealing a finger-width

skinfold of breast

tauntingly hidden

I was fed up

with the tresses of hair

cascading with questions

requests to reach out

and slide a gentle hand

from nape to nipple

I was fed up and,

lacking a chainsaw,

took out my scissors 

inflicted a long cut

removed completely

the front page 

of Saga Magazine

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