Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
the eyes turn away
but the dirt from your gaze
sticks to my privates
like a leech.
standing at the bus stop
clad from head to toe
i feel a piercing pain
in my chest…
your point(s) of concentration
will,
perhaps
one day,
bore holes
next to my nipples.
moving constantly,
never still,
i fidget to hide myself
from your lecherous glare..
only…
i HATE fidgeting.
you,
my man,
are the reason why
my father
never let me play
with the neighbourhood boys…
sired by you
they would too one day
turn into shameless men,
ready to rip apart
with their lustful eyes,
a girl standing at the bus stop,
sorry for being alive.
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