POEM_: Being Gay in India II

They come
in drag, and dance
They come
with false eyelashes, and mascara
They sway their hips
and wink
in the most lecherous way they know
They catch hold
of me,
of my hands, my legs, my crotch;
of anyone, unwilling,
unready to stay uncaught.

They have fun
or pretend to do so.
They have with one
and go to the next
again to do so.

My heart
my Indian romantic heart
my prick, my gay but Indian prick,
We wait
We wait.

- owais

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This was first published in Trikone Magazine.