Poetry by Leah Mueller

Image by Kelly Caldwell / @kellycalledwell


Our Cut-Rate Motel

Your heartbreak wasn’t worth hotel status.
It’s the dive you see from the highway.
Illuminated sign: “Rooms, $23.”




Took a wrong turn
on Sheridan Road
after yoga class, and wound up

at the Baha’i temple,
then sat idling in my car while
I gazed at the spiraling roof.

It always reminded me
of a gigantic orange juice squeezer
waiting patiently for an orange.

There are no accidents,
or so the new agers
always say, but I think
there must be at least a couple,
and this is probably one of them.


Leah Mueller is a writer from Tacoma, Washington. She is the author of two chapbooks, “Queen of Dorksville” (Crisis Chronicles Press) and “Political Apnea” (Locofo Chaps) and four books, Allergic to Everything (Writing Knights Press), Beach Dweller Manifesto (Writing Knights), The Underside of the Snake (Red Ferret Press), and Bastard of a Poet (Alien Buddha Press). Her work appears in Blunderbuss, Summerset Review, Outlook Springs, Crack the Spine, Atticus Review, Your Impossible Voice, and others.