It must have been a gay mosquito.
You know that one with the showy hinds,
Stripped and patterned?
For when we played doctor,
All diseases big and small,
Cured by nudging and tugging on our privates
Ah! Simplicity of that time and age.
While discovering us you suddenly seemed to have moved on,
Conflicted was the word you bombarded me with,
As I sat there wondering where I had slipped,
You’re my very last thought
You’re the battles I’ve fought
I knew it the day I first saw Megan Fox open up the hood of Sam Witwicky’s car in Transformers
Twas like a rush of adrenaline, the way we met
Dark lights, loud music, tipsy minds and a rushed kiss
Your eyes captivated me that Thursday night
And when we kissed, I just wanted more of you
Just take my hand
And let me lay in your arms
In sessions of adult amusements and private passions.
In a never before musical,
Dancing in patterns to unknown moves.
And what are you looking at mister ?
You can have what you see,
I just want something in return now.
Lets play a song.
A song of senses-
Eyes and skin and touch and smell.
And your panting, I can so clearly hear.
The ebb and the flow …
The streets are swarming
with men of the muck,
and their hideous fashions.
Sometime brightly colored tapered trousers
Discolored undergarments like family …
When all the gay boys get their shit
together, go to the gym and get fit
If I could, I would.
But I won't.
For I can stay in forever
And never be found out.
Cop come to party.
My friends party.
He say to us that it is chakka party.
Hold me. Stay here. I’d like to feel.
Don’t…Don’t go away for I like your smell.
Don’t step back for I feel something warm,fuzzy and comforting.
Don’t withdraw for I …
Join SALGA NYC and come meet Ruth Vanita and hear from her new book: Gender, Sex and the City: Urdu Poetry 1780-187.
We were four pitchers down.
It was the fifth date.
Alcohol gave her liquid courage she said.
It was just verbal diarrhea, I thought.
She looked cute, telling me stories …
When I thought of meeting you,
My heart jumped and my trepidation grew
I thought we’d wait,
I thought I’d have time to sit and anticipate.
Yet, you thought otherwise…
A wandering palm reader once asked,
“Do you know who you are?”
Who am I?
The answer is not so simple,
It is more complex than just a name,
We have invited poet Arundhathi Subramaniam to hold a poetry session with the Queer Ink book club.