Gender is the civic center
of my adrenal gland.
I am bound by certainty
to keep it in a shell.
Past fertility, insomnia
is the new membrane
around my nights. My
mortal terror is the now
with what’s left of me.
What are you, demand
the witches from the throne
of their own infallible
femininity. I’m a monster
of my own making who quit
one guile for this new one,
wanton with indifference.
from Colorado Review