Read More: A brief Q&A with John Muellner
Vomit Sonnet
I knelt at the porcelain trough and heaved
until it hurt. I gave myself up; gin
and dignity released until relief
was close enough to kiss my unsought lips.
My beloved kissed someone else last month
or so I was told by a drunken foe
who kept asking to fuck and squeezed my butt
by the firepit. We were both alone
but I sent him packing. My stomach launched
into the bathtub and I relived
everything I held that came with a cost.
I ran the water so the mess thinned
from the start. When I finally stood to leave,
the grout was imprinted on my knees.
I Watch Straight Porn to Find Out What X Likes
The man arrives at the woman’s door
and kisses it. She likes the gesture, or at least pretends.
The man waves at her door, trying to get her attention
like he has something important to tell her. […]
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John Muellner (he/him) is an LGBT writer from St. Paul, MN. His work can be read in Denver Quarterly, New Delta Review, Emerson Review, Harpur Palate, Court Green, and elsewhere. He’s currently a Departmental Poetry Fellow in NYU’s MFA program.
Read More: A brief Q&A with John Muellner