field mice

the bed is full of girlhood
by which i mean fear.
a gender is always
a synonym for an emotion. 
the field mice are boy tonight.
monster machine comes
to cut the corn 
& they run to our house.
talking in the hallway
the mice say,
"in another life 
i was a headlight."
lately i do not believe
in true anything.
there's no true genders
or no true morning or
no true family. this is 
horrible or freeing 
or both. it's always both
but i'm bisexual so 
i just always say that.
there might not even be
a true conscious.
it's fun to believe that maybe 
my words are not my words
by a sum of a lot of water
& salt & pepper. 
i make a little dinner
for the field mice 
& tell no one. i tell them,
"i am a boy too."
they rejoice & we have
a boyhood party. then they 
are gone & i am in bed
talking about terror again.
you are talking about
a paranoia of mice 
in the mattress.
i feel for them & find 
my first lipstick.
crush it in my hand 
before you can see.
it's cruel how the season comes back.
always a girl or a boy
or a girl or a boy. when i say
i'm neither i do not think
i'm much different 
than anyone else. i am just
charting those changes.
most people walk through them
like a fallow field.
i talk to mice. i let them
in my bed.