they/them: a poetry anthology

the kiwi accent

My dad's Kiwi friends tell me
I switch around my e's and my i's. They aren't wrong –
my I's confuse me. Am I, as in "icicle", Anix, or am I
a name chosen for myself, as in King Arthur?

Or could it be
that each invention (envintion in the Kiwi accent) is no more
than a façade? That each layer of self I have grown
as an oyster grows pearls around sand grains and we call its itch semi-precious
is my attempt to smother feminine irritations? (Erretations
in the Kiwi accent.)

Or are my I's really my e's, as in
We? Am I more than my people? Or is my false sense of self
grown organically by those around me? Are my wE's really my
I's? Do I misinterpret who is my mine and who is my nemesis?

Nemesis is a funny word
no matter which side of the Tasman you're on – it implies
preordained dislike destined for fantasy archenmity. Hate
is not as simple as an I or an E. It is not engineered
by fates pulling at strings, by spinners supernatural – it is grown
around an irritation, for the world is our oyster, and we are all
grains of sand.

Was our pearl
no more than a layer of lies?