gender of the night

I love a woman taller than sunbeams
        who winks at me in half-light          & bends
               to bestow whiskered kisses beneath my collarbones
                   then hangs up her gender from a coat-hook
                       to sleep          unencumbered by social constructionism
                         snoring, genderless.
                          My own gender is visible only in certain moonlights
                           during gibbous phases waning and waxing
                           determined by tidal season and by the 
                           movements of birds          flying south for winter.
                          My gender is carried on the north wind
                        through storms and seas and then
                      falls through our open bedroom window
                  to settle          gently glittering 
            on my lover’s eyelashes
    silvered by the moon