Curves

i love curves
like winding roads
that lull me
giving me such
needed rest
when i climb
mountain tops

for curves have
a way of making
things turn the
way they are not
and i marvel
about such
an intricacy
an art that winds
upon itself in
mystery, something

so profound
like what is that boa
hiding in its coils?
a pig? a goat?
a dog?
or a man?

curves heal
like a profound idea
entwining a man's mind
like a vine
delivering a yellow flower
to my lips

curves of a woman's body
like an argument that
wants to convince a stoical
and impartial jury

curves in my mind
not sharp not blunt not even piercing
but exaltingly stunning

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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