He likes laceâ€”the way skin shows through
no matter the colorâ€”a kind of unnatural
The permanent She, the human She
The alien asks questions to puzzle piece the grief.
Her face is a storm
cloud and She canâ€™t formulate.
Itâ€™s no secret. No matter the pronoun, he is neither
a he nor a she.
Her mind on spin cycle:
I wanted androgynyâ€”male androgyny. This house doesnâ€™t need
The alien doesnâ€™t understand her despair.
Itâ€™s only a costume
swap, a different role to play.
Normally tears fascinate
but there are so many her lids start to swell.
Sheâ€™s always been attracted to the aliens, tall and lean
This one became more
than a fling, when he showed up in a suit and tie
to her fatherâ€™s funeral.
After hours in separate rooms and thought, a try
You know, I was content being a He, until I lived
with your She.
I understand your reasons. Sometimes I wish I was a man.
is enough. But what about you
and me?Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â And what about me?