Please, says Vivian,
come into my room with me.
She tugs on my shirt.
It’s my shadow,
she says, it is following me,
and he is mean,
he is every word for mean.
Her eyes blink slow.
Her face holds my face.
Is it a boy? I ask her,
confused by her pronouns,
and she tells me, No,
it’s a girl changing into a boy.
I do not understand
and it doesn’t matter.
I hold her in the small room
where the light is diffuse
and our shadows,
whatever they are,
wait for us outside the door
along with everything
that shines.