Not all things can be beautiful
The frog song grates in the ears and your face scars with acne and age
And besides, beauty is mostly incidental, evolutionary
bright butterfly wings announce poison
striped fish camouflage in seaweed
Flowers grow more beautiful with each generation of gardener
splicing genes and selecting mutations
saying to each small genetic variation
I choose you, I choose you, I choose you
In the dark I run my fingers over new ridges of stretch marks
My hips are taking unfamiliar shapes
my body is forming itself of its own volition
It too is a product of evolution
of the best child-bearing hips and load-bearing shoulders
This body is the product of those not left behind—
a baby wedged behind too small hips
the fish eaten, the birds unchosen, the butterflies attacked
a gardener telling the rest of the plants every year
not you, not you, not you
Even if incidental, there is beauty
candy floss sunrises and bird song
women who live to be old and wear enough wrinkles for all who don’t
a gentle touch in the night
someone finding you in the dark, the light, the mirror
and saying I choose you, I choose you, I choose you