this cavalier's crack
hides kids with elephantitis
while drive-by hair salons lurk in the shadow
of the ever-present, all-seeing, ever-phallic minaret
and don't get me started on those domes, my brothers,
that float atop your halls of prayer
serene in pastoral green
while you disguise the real ones behind reams of cloth
in an attempt to stifle their owners
with the necessities of meticulous propriety
if you really wish to own them
to sport their bits as well as yours on your edifice of patriarchy
in a proud display of biological divisiveness
consider the implications of your real estate desires
since there's no such category as trannie adjacent
you scholars of man and God
who rage your voices to the heavens
(whether or not the heavens listen)
you know nothing of woman, your constant listener
hide her eyes behind a veil
and her thoughts-
which are wont
to edify your unfinished polemic
of a life-
will be veiled from you