What's Your Pronoun? Poem by Richard Jarboe

She was a He with a little bit of Them,
He was a Her with a little bit of Him,
The Cancel Culture They would both embrace,
They couldn't care less 'bout egg on Their face.

Even though child birth sort of gave Her away,
She still was a Them every other day,
He, She and the We were both creatures of habit,
And not into religion They dumped on the Sabbath.

The baby turned out to be an IT,
The baby didn't like being human one bit,
Confusion was a fission in the baby's checkered brain,
Made the baby color blind, so no color mattered to this Them.

It's good schizophrenia has become so blase'
Who cares if a guy's a gal every other day,
And We, He and She don't need no cops around,
Everybody's too busy checking out who's queer.

Don't ask, don't tell there's no connection,
Somewhere in the fog is the ghost of intention,
Somewhere in the fog it's all crystal clear,
There's a lot of pronouns lurking around here