"incurved" poems
It's the way you flow:
your hips tethered to the beat
as a kite allured by the wind,
you are angular; incurved
in the right places.
Uncaring you have no fear
where the music may take you,
untamed as hot air colliding with cold,
adrift in the density of the rhythm
I soon lose sight of you.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 11:52 AM UTC