For Those Who’ve Never Been Beautiful

There may be a place
for faces like ours,
even if not on a television screen.
The boys and girls born to be seen
are not our milieu,

but in the wafting grasses of the night
a flower grows that’s just for us,
the petals prised apart
by careful hands of rain,
its scent dispersed like new gossip.

I’ve always been an ugly one.
Legs like tree trunks, chipped tooth,
a fleshy and amorphous face.

But in the sprawling human race
we are at least unique.