the way the back of my neck
has an odd hump,
and the way my eyes
are two different shapes.
(my eyes and their shapes)
(my eyes and their shapes)
one the form of a weeping crow
and the other a dancing god.
my uneven front teeth, and
my bad morning breath.
the stains of menstrual blood
on the corner of a bedsheet.
I am stout, the way the sun is.
the way the ocean ripples
my belly does too.
my stinky feet,
thankfully not webbed.
my legs, dotted with healed insect bites
I scratched until they bled
perhaps a buried treasure underneath.
I am priceless, like a broken vase.
like a vintage car, like the roof
over my mama’s head.
I am sinful and rude,
as in picking my nose at dinner.
as in I am too large
and the bed is twin-sized.
as in July rain.
I am a wobbly line,
the kind you trip over.
and worst of all
I try to be good and kind,
and I fail
but I try again.
Acknowledgements
Theo Itchon is an emerging poet from the Philippines. Their passion for literature extends to their work as a creative writing teacher to the Filipino youth. In their spare time, they love watching horror films and baking chocolate chip cookies. They have been published in Katitikan, a Literary Journal of the Philippine South, and Anak Sastra: Literary Journal.