the line of the throat – the swell of breast –
concaved at the waist – at the hip, convexed
like the surge of land at horizon’s end –
crescendoes and decrescendoes beneath the hand –

this was the spaded blade of leaf
this was the soaring curved firmament
this was the waveworn, salt-embowed cove
this was the domed footprint of rain.

this was the shell of a trembling egg
this was the whisper-soft feather's edge
this was the curtsy of a fruit-laden branch
this was the disc of the sun.

---

Notes: I'm rather happy with how this one turned out, and I've been wanting to pursue this subject matter for some time. As the proud bearer of curves, it's rather dismaying for me to see how straight-edged and sickly-thin seems to have come into vogue; surely the great artists of the past (Botticelli, Raphael, Titian) would have been horrified to see today's ideals. I mean, just try to imagine the Venus de Milo with the almost boyish shape du jour (think: Kiera Knightley, Lara Flynn Boyle). It just doesn't work. ::Sigh:: There goes classic beauty.