Ungendered

The Femininity of words,

is lost on the trickling of the brook,

which can be defiled of lifted up

by her opposite.

 

Scilence! the gender doesn’t matter

It’s how you frame the picture, be it

by candle and moon light, with a dust of rose,

or a cold unfeeling corridor leading

to the masters study.

 

Apollo and Aphrodite,

conflict upon the page,

all that they stand for: the follies

of men, and the desire’s of women,

sensual and soft.

 

Taking a step back through the mirror though,

I find myself (silly american), honched over text

ungendered, I find myself at a loss to make the

earth and the sky wed like the french would have them,

instead they sit on the page, two things with

a lack of love between them.

 

I can not make the words undergo a shot-gun wedding,

nor can I force them to just jump off a cliff together, with

the hopes that maybe at the bottom they’d merge,

Word don’t work like that.

 

Words,

Sun and moon. Night and day.

fire and Ice. girl and boy.

Sol y Luna, Noche y día,

fuego y hielo, chica y chico.

Funny how the gentle man

barges through the door before

the lady has a chance to take

even the first step.