my gender
1
my gender is driftwood carried by tide hoarded by octopus
captured in mouths of fish dropped by surf on shore
my gender is the way the leaves turn toward the sky before
soft showers the canyoning of snails the lapping of puddles
my gender is snow thundering off a slate roof shaking the house
crushing anything beneath that resists
my gender is dripping of laundry on the line caught by the wind
the straining of clothespins to hold fast
my gender is condensation of ice in clouds chaos of friction
the ecstatic release of lightning
my gender sounds like rain the kind that floods
that raises the smell of good dirt
2
my gender is not fire it is not the last pebble it is not just one snowflake
it is not your gender it is not what you imagine it is not your business
my gender is not the call of geese but also not the eagle it is not a comfortable
breeze it is more hurricane and less spit
my gender insists it runs before me and I follow it has plans it is tricky
it whispers while I sleep it cries with me at dawn
my gender bubbles beneath me while I walk it moves the earth while I sit
it prefers my feet on the ground it tells me where to go
my gender is not an easy flowing thing it is complicated sometimes angry
some days it laughs at me some days I am not sure it is my gender
my gender is a bitch my gender is a bastard my gender is a faucet
missing a washer
3
my gender is gray and metallic and prefers the beach to mountains my gender is
focused also inattentive also a bubbling mess
my gender is yellow and salmon the colors of sunrise and a long walk that hurts
but then feels good the next day
my gender makes me hungry for smoked fish, olives and maybe garlic hummus
washed down with a good pinot noir
my gender has insight into people I am still learning my gender knows who my
real friends are
my gender gives the mail carrier a lot to think about all those packages addressed to
two different names
my gender found me when I was masked when everyone was masked and I discovered
I was wearing two of them