The Lights Go One By One

In silence, the click of a switch sounds like a gun.

The lights go one by one,

and darkness rushes along like a freight train.

In silent gloom, the remnants of a party look like a bone forest.

After the parade I live in silence.

Not quiet contemplation but silence.

Pure silence in thick, forbidding layers

that lie heavy on my mouth and ears.

I have not known the feeling of lightness,

that absence of doubt.

With a foot in each world and a clumsy tongue,

and shy eyes,

and shaking hands I cannot reach across the land

between myself and my kin.

They know.

They know,

but like good Christians, they do not talk about the sin of simply being...

split.

Or torn.

I see it in their eyes when I speak about the possibility of the female form -

their lights go one by one,

dimming until I return to silence.

They live in hope because I can love a man,

and I in waiting,

with bated breath because I cannot control my tender heart.

They love me.

They love me and they worry.

And they'd rather I have children.

After the parade, I live with this bag of mismatched facts,

and gunshot clicks in the distance.