Poems of a Muslim Transgender 4

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

Shadows of Death and Exile

Eye shadow makes girls look sexy.
Five o’clock shadow gets gurls killed.
It’s the giveaway that you were born a man
Even if you shave three times a day;
So I go for electrolysis on my face.

At the clinic the sweet lady tech is Polish.
I hand her two books and then burst into tears.
It isn’t the pain when the whiskers are pulled out
But the anguish I feel for Poland abandoned by Trump;
It was always symbolic of martyrdom for me.

Enough. Eye shadow makes you sexy.
Five o’clock shadow makes you look dead.
Except that it’s real and not a Goth fantasy
I see the eyes of homicide wherever I go
And remember the dead trannies I’ll never know.

Leaving the 19 Polk bus – the Tranny Express –
I window shop for lingerie I’ll buy when I’m rich.
When I walk into a shop filled with delights
The saleswoman is Catalan and I cry again;
We sing revolutionary anthems for Barcelona.

She’s an exile as am I with my female name;
Crossdressing was a banishment for me.
I leave the shop and salute some construction workers
On a strike picket line. But they too look murderously
At me and my miniskirt and stripper heels.

And so I take the Shadow Bus back to my room;
The lines on Pacific Avenue are safe.
The Asian drivers are solid union members.
They stand between me and armies of glaring haters;
I’m a tranny ready to stand with the transit workers.

But I’m back to Barcelona once I get cash,
Returning to exile with my goddess Buck.
She with her hands, I with sentimental gestures;
Black rose, red rose, blonde roses, against all hate.
Walking, or marching alone; against emptiness, all.

( . )( . )