mukhannathun

Baker boys, palace guards
I know how to play their cards
With my red hennaed beautiful fingers
And the scent of saffron lingers
They see me in my silk robe
They see me and they can only hope
That my kohl-lined eyes will cast a glance
That I will invite them for a dance
Under the Baghdad scimitar moon
And the Medina sun that rises too soon
I make new widows laugh as I strike my tambourine
And sing about fart and men who are unclean
Only the devil and I know my grief
That I, that we, have it veiled under sighs of relief
As the machete of castration is brought upon me
And the blood drips onto my sandals for everyone to see
Yet I strike, I strike my tambourine
And sing about fart and men who are unclean

Photo by Putri Soesilo

For more information about mukhannathun, click here.

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