Piece of art

i won’t ask you to cut off
whatever part of you
you think is excessive
just so we’re the same shape
you know, i like the strips of crumpled paper
peeling off your cheeks
and the drops of dreary paint
spilling from your eyes
i like the crooked curve of your smile
and the stray slanted lines
of your shoulders, arms, and hands.

i am all smooth surfaces and soft, blurred edges you see —
my chest, waist, legs, feet —
and a palette of pastel colors
i wear on my head
the paint — mild pinks, yellows, peaches —
woven into the strands of my wavy hair.

but maybe if we put together these incongruities
arrange them
fold, press, pat
frame it
place it on the wall
and take a little step back
we will be surprised to see
a beautiful piece of art
we could call Us.

— Hillary Mae Bucao