The Changeling
by Nevada Kerr

I am the changeling
Sometimes I wear the face of the satyr-minx
Who occasionally resides in the body of an elfish troll

I have one eye on the grave
I have the other eye on the tom-girl cyclops
Girding up my loins

Call me the harlequin moon
The moon-mother man
Tower flower and crazy fruit
Fingering the pie
Shaking the root

I am not one nor the other nor a sisterly brother
Let alone this quaint chimera you call father

I am the loose flying fish
In your meatless dish
Black swan-pan and extractor of bones
I knit the blood-ivy stepping stones

I am the changeling
Sometimes I wear the skin of the golden mean
Who never takes sides in this body of dreams

I have one hand on this imminent void
I have the other hand on the hobbledehoy
Stepping into my skirt

I am the sound cipher
Dividing your silent world
Noon-night pariah and exporter of forms
I melt the rock-skin of your shifting norms
By embodying new genders
And expending expenders

I am not one nor the other nor an unconditional mother
Let alone this flawed algebra you call a wonder

Call me the hybrid boy
The flesh of feathers
Mocking echo and shadow truth
I deepen the shadows
I melt into you

Written by Nevada Kerr
30th March 1997.