Defiance Poetry: yes, i have breasts

Male magnified gaze

Sometimes I get the feeling that I am being looked at through a magnifying glass. A giant convex lens with a thick black frame, and peeping from behind it, many curious, hungry eyes. 

As a woman walking on the streets I feel threatened. At restaurants, because I eat alone, I feel the male gaze. At bus stops, the wolf-whistles grows louder. I react. Sometimes with a stern look, a lifted finger, a curt word. 

More often I react through defiance. This once, through poetry. 

i have breasts

but i will not apologise        

not to you, who on the streets, think it fair to guess sizes loud

not to you, who on the bus, fix greedy eyes on my perky twins

not to you, concerned friend, subtle hints won't work with me

i have breasts but i won’t gift wrap

first a dupatta and then a shielding bag
nor will i, head meekly down, shrink into self

or curb my curious wandering eyes

you teach me young to disown my body
to hide ashamed beneath shapeless layers
i for one want to flaunt it all
hour-glass, apple, banana or pear

what then, if i have 'em breasts

they ain't no reason to apologise