Three Poems on Gay Marriage


Till Death do Adam and Steve Apart

What else champions the muted heart
To rapture in the loudest decibel.
Who would have thought that history
Could be made, in a tuxedo and a tuxedo
One jet black and one mute swan white;
And when they came off
Under a tapestry of yellow stars,
They became a shade of cinnamon brown
And together, flared by a flame,
They could only caramelize.

Muscle Cars

They call it the aftermath, the echo,
The residue; A kiss leaves dewy lips
Sunburn leaves behind a rosy patch
A cigarette makes the mouth taste funny
And what about two men whose only dream in life
Is just a hall packed with kith and kin,
And an ice sculpture on a lifted stand
At the entrance; what should they lapse into,
As their bodies cave in to heart matter,
And became like two snowy white swans
Whose beaks and necks needed no
Introduction, but their bodies did,
Just like man and woman, no longer
Squatters, or trespassers, just defenders
Of the oldest union, which like
A carburetor mixes two elements,
Into combustion. And they say, there are
Trials of fire, when muscle cars cruise.

Time Trails

We are under no umbrella,
Only an Acacia tree.
Over here, the bricks called DNA, bear
No scars, this is just as natural
As a binary body, with equal poles,
Searching for an ampersand
To drift us together, to become
As naked as a bowed cupid, holding onto
The shifting momentum,
When we are just plain wrong, for those comfortable
With the familiar, and yet it still feels right for our bodies.
We are just, tumbling from then,
To now; time, a frothy dominion,
And we are children of a lesser god,
Building sand castles right at the edge of the beach,
Hoping for the day, they will
Stand out of reach, of time’s
Bogeyman lips.

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