Non-Erotic PoetrySublime RotationLike a frozen sheet
flapping stiff on a winter line
in the frigid prairie wind
drying through sublimation,
I am held fixed
under your icy glare
my vital forces sublimating
into the vacuum
of your need.
Sigh,that last caress
as your hands
fold me neatly
to deposit me
in the linen closet
until my time
for your bed
comes round again.
© Piscator 2014
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