Fiction & Poetry
Like some perverted Pavlovian desire,
the wafting smell of fresh soap
that fills up the air in the bath
has my pupils dilate when walking out.
Waxing my body for the first time last year to have silky skin like the women on Veet’s box but ended up with rashes instead.
I only ever read your letters
to learn what patterns to avoid
in future relationships.
Khusro to Bullah. Ada to Parveen
यह, वह, वो
He, she, they
Lover or Beloved? Woman or Man?
I see people and places,
Couples and crushes
I hear giggles and whispers.
These are the secrets untold to me.
They’ punch him
with the pejorative
‘sissy’
and blame him for his smooth skin
and pink lips
for all ‘their’
disoriented gazes.
We are two boys in our early twenties
who can read touch like that, who have broken into
a 200-year-old mansion, without permission,
to see from above where people like them go
after 377 has been read down only for those
who can stay behind closed doors — in the custody
of cheap hotels, or houses that welcome nights
with the sound of latches closing.
Who is this that works my hand?
Who is this that moves my pen?
Touch is a beetle creeping on this foreign thing
That wears my body like an evening.
Just like on a misty morning,
we both
sit
without a shred of adornment
on these ancient stepwells
and the call of the hummingbirds
offer us sensations,
imagination,
and our innocence
He said ‘tender’ today/in such a way/I thought/I’d definitely like him saying/dirty things to me
A kiss for the side of your neck One for the last of your back For a year that we…
“Be yourself, Sarah. Awkward smiles, empty silences, weird laughter, and all. It’s just a part of being human. Loving someone physically is never not awkward. Even if it’s a monogamous relationship. It’s only the comfort of familiarity that makes you think otherwise.”
Unbiased academic Pillars Stand rock hard and Straight-shoot to the sky. Pillars My teacher tells me all…