​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