If You Were a Shape

If you were a shape,

            what shape would you be;

don’t think, just write it down,

            whatever comes to mind, whatever.

Now write, “I am” … a square,

            one small square, anywhere, on a white

sheet of paper, four perfect angles, one-fourth

            of a whole, 90 degrees each, 4 points

connected, left to right, down, right to left,

            and up in black ink, India ink

on fine linen paper, or just a single sheet

            of unlined paper torn from a notebook,

rough edged in tearing. Use a pen, a pencil, crayons

            pulled from a box of paperless nubs

to draw the lines, a straight edge,

            1 inch long or tall, measured precisely,

the square as near perfect as you can.

            In the center, faint lines cross, drawn

to intersect, X marking the spot,

            and this is me, this is you,

this is us, squares on a white sheet

            of paper, four perfect angles, one-fourth

of a whole, connected, black and white,

            the square blacked out, perhaps,

or colored in a contrasting shade, a sharp

            border holding it in, holding in ourselves.

If you were a shape, what shape

            would you be, and what shape

would we make working together, you and me,

            designing, becoming, creating art.