No, I’m Gay (A slam poem)

Hi, my name is Lu-
Wait, it’s not like you care.
You’ve already made assumptions based
on my hair,
Both the length on my head
and what’s down there.

For my sex life, my body image
is clearly your business, broadcasted news.
If you can convince me it’s a phase,
for it’s God’s message (well done you.)

Clearly what porn portrays is
a rehearsal for my real past time.
Asking if I scissor is obviously fine.
But you don’t want tips, you’re not that way inclined.
You ask if you can join,
for lesbian means fetish…
So why would I mind?

As if holding my girlfriend’s hand
is some kind of offence
Yet your Porn Hub’s biggest fan,
So it’s doesn’t make sense.

I mean, you’re clearly what I’m after,
what’s missing, the guy I’m really looking for.
A man whose surname I require,
‘Two women only?’ ‘Fancy a threesome?’ Wait,
you’re telling me you’re —”

‘Can I watch?’ ‘So, what is it you do?’ isn’t invasive at all…
I have it easy, ‘boys are dicks’, I’ve heard it all before.

A ‘gay marriage’ is different, exotic, some big day out,
‘I went to a GAY wedding’, your colleague exclaims,
but behind closed doors, nothing’s changed.

Sure, I wear dresses, makeup, no buzz-cut in sight,
for if it’s not penetrative, it’s not real sex, right?
‘Please make me straight’ I’m no church goer, but I pray,
‘I’m not interested’, ‘I’m taken’, ‘I see you as a friend…’

No, I’m…
gay.

les-be-honest

 

‘but she’s a girl’

my mother said

after I paid for dinner

& the valentines’ card was signed

with swirly, delicate style

not block capitals like my father’s

 

her body

like mine, but different

iridescent, a beacon in the

morning sun

dazzling her spine

like a torch

 

I touch, but it’s wrong

but it feels… ri-

yet we hold hands slyly

in the corner of the bus

 

no husband to pay the

bills, my parents fear

 

our legs intertwined in our

(air-raid) shelter

‘unnatural!’ the sirens blare

she, the lighthouse in the storm

(of my affections)