Pheromone Party, by Michael Montlack

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

Leave it to the gay guys

who, like John Waters,

have a knack for making

even the trashy playful.

One Thursday a month,

we gather at Nowhere—

the East Village dive—

checking our cashmere

sweaters and dress shirts,

so we can mosey around

in wifebeaters. Or bare-

chested. Pausing here

to kiss the stubbly cheek

of an ex. Or there to inhale

the not-so-musky pit of

a twink with daddy-bear

aspirations. Retracting

to offer a friendly review.

Sweet, buddy! I’ll swing

by later when you ripen.

Often typecast as fussy

and squeamish—not here,

where stink is celebrated,

noted like a wine’s tannins.

We behave like the puppy

we easily forgive as it stops

to sniff a stranger’s Beagle

at the dog park. Here, plenty

of room to get re-acquainted

with the hairy masculinity

that had once terrified us,

forbidden but undeniable,

like the tender animality

of our humanity. Cologne

and deodorant unwelcome,

this night remains maskless.

Here we will go unleashed.

High on each other’s funk.

---

Michael Montlack is author of two poetry collections and editor of the Lambda Finalist essay anthology My Diva: 65 Gay Men on the Women Who Inspire Them (University of Wisconsin Press). His poems recently appeared in Poetry Daily, Prairie Schooner, North American Review, december, Cincinnati Review, and phoebe. His prose has appeared in The Rumpus, Huffington Post and Advocate.com. In 2022 his poem won the Saints & Sinners Poetry Award (for LGBTQ writers). He lives in NYC, where he teaches Poetry at CUNY City College.