
Five Sonnets After Catullus
By Anna Jackson
I love and I hate (equation sonnet)
after Catullus 85
if I am north to your south I am south to your south too
if permeability measures the ability
to support a magnetic field
within the self
I am permeable to the inverse ratio
of your perfection
attracted and repelled till my teeth
are audible across the room, beyond the skies
racing the Beatles song “Across the Universe”
to reach some distant form of life
which will be wondering, why would I compose
such a complicated feeling-equation?
I don’t know
I just feel crucified
being a poet (waitress sonnet)
after Catullus 51
tips too much, that god sitting across from you, again
and again, these extravagant gestures, it brings
me down, brings down
sense and tongue, he, resounding
with my longing, seems to me like a mirror, eyeing
my fleeting glances, my feet tripping
over chairs, idle laughter
or was it coins resounding, seizing the time
yet revelry runs fiercely
through my senses
as if through the burning house of poetry
my mouth lit up
with dazzling fire, one day
I’ll say something
trippy (bedroom sonnet)
after Catullus 2
trippy, this bird
you let under the sheet
of your shirt, eyes
on me, making light
of the weight
of your feelings, a skittering
on your skin, if it hurts
you’re asking for it
should be soaring like a god
into the sky, should be
pouring out an ecstasy of song, should
should should should should should should
should should should
should should should
through and through (party sonnet)
after Catullus 27
tip this out, I won’t be served with
watered down wine, this is
wine procured by
a prefect, drunker than
a drunk grape,
setting an example
I feel
I should follow...
off with you, water, you toxic
substance, too late
to effect a cure on me, I’m drunk
through and through,
it has spread to my nymph-nodes –
I’m [hic] all wine’s
tastes like wine (dawn sonnet)
after Catullus 48
tastes like wine, this boy sitting across from me, his
honey eyes looking like yours as he implores
me to join him on the floor
the table a low ceiling swirling
like a chandelier
in the earthquake of these kisses
table legs circling
like the blades of a combine harvester
every kiss is a near miss
my heart escaping like a mouse
into the corn
the summer’s sun all rolled into one
ripeness I can
never get enough of
Anna Jackson is a New Zealand poet. For more on her work, go to www.annajackson.nz.
Image:
Photograph by Simon Edmonds, supplied by author