A fabric swatch, off-loom now for forty days
A sheer cotton blend in a saintly white hue
Bleached to match a standard long misplaced
Now cut and stitched into the puzzle that creates a nightdress

Knee high with thin straps to fight the undeviating battle with gravity
Designed to breath and rest gently on a woman’s skin
To lay bare her form in the backlit magic of twilight

So slight it cannot resist the inquisitor’s touch
Yet so powerful it can undo a man’s ability to reason
To speak in complete sentences

To resist this woven miracle is on par with the creation of cold fusion
To accept its unspoken invitation is the act of primitive submission
A piercing scream for guidance goes unheard
It is swallowed by its creator

Unaware he is helpless to a yarn count
Provocatively arranged in an immodest, translucent, accouterment
A compliant sinner answering to the law of mankind
Yielding to the frame that embellishes the painting
A sheer cotton blend in a saintly white hue


Todays best new poem was written by Michael Winchester.


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