The beauty of the male form lies not in action,
Nor definition,
But in guarded potential.
In gripping,
Almost beginning to move,
A suggestion of fearsome ability.
In feet.
Curve of the back
A hardened, rounded edge
That slides beneath the cloth or skin,
And waits.
The suggestion of the intellect,
Through the arms and hands,
To tense at words unspoke
Or read,
And twiddle through a thought--
Or toes,
Precise if aimless.

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