Leah Mueller

SUNKEN ANGEL

Around the corner,
where no light can be found,
I stretch across the counter,
prostrate like a penitent,

foam at the edges of my mouth.
The sun has risen by mistake.

It meant to wait
until I slept but then
grew impatient. My brain is
sloppy, as if I forgot
to tuck in its shirt.

Someone threw half a bag
of salad and a pair of pants
onto the sidewalk, an offering
for the gods. I hope the gods

are snug and full
on this Los Angeles morning.

AFTERGLOW

Seated beside the mesquite bushes
on a balmy October night, we
sip wine and listen to music:
Spanish guitar and mandolin.

Blanketed by endorphins,
the two of us sneak
glances at each other, even
as others arrive. I never

expected to feel such warmth
settle around my shoulders again,

yet it returns, offering
whatever it has left. Life refuses
to stop, no matter how hard I resist,

and the music will keep playing
to a different audience, long
after we’ve gone home.

Leah Mueller‘s work is published in Rattle, NonBinary Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Citron Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Does It Have Pockets, Outlook Springs, Your Impossible Voice, etc. She has received several nominations for Pushcart and Best of the Net. One of her short stories appears in the 2022 edition of Best Small Fictions. Her fourteenth book, “Stealing Buddha” was published by Anxiety Press in 2024. Website: http://www.leahmueller.org.