These hills nested
in the night
have gone to bed
in the darkness
of the valley

now only your fragrance
reaches me
there is nothing left
but the noise of cicadas

that keep step
with my fantasies.

By Shaleen Rakesh

Shaleen works as an activist on gay rights in New Delhi, India. When he is (also when he is not) traveling down fabulous Indian village roads, he takes pictures and writes poetry. The Bling Diary is a queer poetry column updated whenever its time to run down the street with sparklers.