Matthew Zhao: 5 Poems
CW: sexual content
Sonnet for the Son
They declared me alive at 7:59, a minute before
policy promises another night, another shift of
nurses sweeping by, more IV and trays for you.
Instead, they said Take care, don’t let him die,
feed him when he cries, he’s a happy baby but
prepare for the lies. You’ll ask me How are you?
and I’ll reply I’m doing all right. Not telling you
that What’s for dinner? makes me break down
every time. Another meal alone. What if I choke?
I want back pats in rhythm: you’re okay, you’ll be
fine, not meals left at my doorstep or utility bills
under your credit. Please, snip my cord so I can
float away. My sister will heal the earth below.
I’m too high, just look to the sun, eat my remains.
Like Woods I Had a Tiger Dad
Tiger Woods is half-Asian
so no one forgets and
I respect his game an excuse
for sleeping with sin.
I forgive him not really caring
what he did to his wife or children.
That’s what Tiger wanted, right?
My approval? He did what needed
to be done, got off when he could, mind
on the game because there’s only room
for one hole, one chance to claim
all the glory he’s ever worked for.
Enough to say, Look Dad! Look what I did!
He’s finally proud. We can finally take a break.
There’s nothing left to improve on.
If only we were taught to believe that.
Man Crush Every Day
Have you heard about Jonny Kim,
the doctor, SEAL-turned astronaut?
He said “The Hippocratic oath sucks!”
Because real power is deciding
when to save lives or not.
Man Crush Monday comes
before Taco Tuesday, thank God
but what the fuck have I done
except spend ten thousand
on couchlock?
I used to tell myself men are hot
when I wanted to be them.
I realized it was something else.
I wanted to see myself in them,
to see them in me.
I imagined how it feels
to be handled by a man
who knows what he’s doing.
What Manner of Man
It is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness
before seeing what manner of man you may become.
—Socrates
When I first started watching porn
it was only girl on girl scenes because
I thought it was gay to see other men’s things
especially over video, why would I willingly?
But I didn’t know you were allowed to
imagine yourself as the cow or the bull,
give and take a practice of
mediation. Soft and hard.
Bodies are just what they are
and I don’t have a new metaphor.
Nothing as visceral as skin sack
of organs or vessel for orgasms,
the strength of each waning.
We really just want to see bodies
pushed to their limits, to see what
they go through when challenged.
Sport stars breaking records and
rectums gaping make me realize
what I can and cannot do.
I use queerness as an excuse
to admire women’s bodies and
I’ll stay bicurious by checking out both
but I’m too scared to act on it.
I, too, just appreciate the human form.
White marble dicks catching my attention,
a small, cupped hand could fit on that.
Male Gays
I participate in the male gaze by watching
Chiropractic videos of women in yoga pants
with muscles palpitating under strong fingers
Limber bodies twisting and stretching
Sound of spinal pop like crack to my ears
Gluteal clefts like crack for my eyes
ASMR a five-sense experience, no charge.
Ads skipped on the millisecond because
I don’t have time for it, that materialism,
I just believe in essentialism like what our
bodies can do for us.
Matthew Zhao is a pansexual Chinese American writer from Michigan. His first poetry collection, KING OF SONG, has been a finalist in the National Poetry Series, a semifinalist in the Word Works Washington Prize, Longleaf Press Book Prize, and Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize, and longlisted in the Lost Horse Press Idaho Prize. His poetry appears or is forthcoming in Mississippi Review, swamp pink, Four Way Review, Frontier Poetry, and The Summerset Review.