The Closet Professor

Gay Sex
by Patrick Cash

Let’s talk about gay sex baby
Let’s crow about its beauty daily
Place away your shades of shame
And trace in me a sacred flame
Lend me your lips, boy
And of your muscled hips
I will speak and enjoy
Give me the words
Of your body’s supple burn
And into silver zodiacs
I will write the codes
My desire in you has cracked
Of naked bodies and buttocks
And cocks and jockstraps
My tongue between your shoulderblades
Tattoos them with my name
That I will dare to speak
And dare to speak again
Down into the dip of your back
My mouth will murmur rapt
Then I let my whispers lick
First one gluteus muscle
Before on to its perfect brother
Hear my hands
On your flesh slap
And the parting of your pretty ass
To reveal your winking, pink anus
In the hush of my first kiss
The sensation’s racing
Instantaneous
Spiralling up your spinal cord
Exploding into your loosened brain
Uttered as a gasp and a word
That was there from the beginning:

“Fuck”

And I say, “yes…”

I’m not talking about gay sex
To shock or cause stress
I’m talking about it
Because no one else is
Our gay comedians
Are asexual chameleons
No sex, please
We’re gay and on TV

And I’ve heard my straight mates say:
“I don’t mind it happening
As long as I don’t hear about it”
Well here, now, it’s happening
And it’s hard and it’s fast and it’s racing
A gasp and a whimper
The sound of flesh whacking flesh
Of my penis inside him
It’s sweat dripping from one man to another
A soaring, writhing ecstasy of kissing
It’s in your face
It’s in your head
It’s in the space
Where angels fear to tread

Because my sex is part of my identity
My sex makes me and shapes me
And I’m not going to stop it and lock it
And shut it up
Not for you and not for me
My sex is laced with shame
My sex is the wrong sex
My sex was illegal
My sex instils fear
It’s parks after dark
And it’s public toilets
And it’s AIDS
Like David Stuart said:
“When your parents think of sex
They see your sister married
You and your boyfriend
It’s shit on dicks”
My sex is a sin without name
And try telling this
To the two 20-year-old boys
I interviewed last week
Who both have HIV
Because they’re not told
About gay sex in schools
And they’re not told
About transmission
And the condom, they are told,
Is there to stop pregnancy

But lastly my sex is my gift
To be shared safely
With rising sensation
Of move and thrust and kiss
My sex lives in excited eyes
It whispers between fingertips
My sex is in his smile
It’s in his pleasure
And what we share together
My sex speaks now and always will
Of the word we all call love

Patrick Cash is a queer journalist and creative writer based in London, prominently known for hosting two LGBTQ-friendly open mic nights: the poetry and performance night, “Spoken Word London,” the gay men’s well-being forum, “Let’s Talk About Gay Sex & Drugs,” and the theatrical showcase event Dark Fabrics Cabaret. He writes on various subjects, including much arts/culture, and works as Assistant Editor for QX Magazine. Find him on Twitter @paddycash.

Cash’s main focus when writing poetry is emotional truth. He believes we are sometimes smothered by falsity in the modern world, from social media performance to creepy algorithm-led advertising, and good art cuts through that superficiality. If you achieve authenticity of feeling in your poem, then that truth will resonate deeply with your audiences, whatever your surface differences of sexuality, gender, or race.

Cash believes it is important for queer poets to be heard to engender understanding of the queer experience. He said that if you’ve grown up straight, male and privileged, then queerness may seem like a very alien—even threatening—concept to you. Yet all humans understand what it is to feel different, and innate concepts like shame and hope. Queer poets not only empower queer people, but use their words as conduits for empathy.

When asked about the future of queer poetry, Cash said, “Greater visibility, more mixed queer/straight readerships and more mainstream literary recognition. In some ways, I feel the age we’re living in of LGBTQ rights and queer literature is partially comparable to the Harlem Renaissance bringing black literature to mainstream America in the ’20s. Queer poetry deepens our understanding of multifaceted humanity.”