Triple Sonnet Because Boy, You’re Starstruck and I’m a Wonder

By Dorothy Chan

Boy, you’re starstruck. I love the way you rub

the red lipstick off above my Cupid’s bow—

how you call it the halo of my face, because

girliness equals goodness equals godliness

equals, let’s be real, Oh My Goddess, like that

moment when Hades and Persephone meet

in the fractured Greek myth, and the Goddess

of Spring chugs her can of pomegranate soda,

because her future lover is oh so fine, and check

out that ass. They don’t make stories like this

anymore, do they? Boy, you’re my good afternoon

delight as the Fountains at the Bellagio go off,

as the tourists at the bistro across the street

munch on Steak Béarnaise and Croque Monsieur

and Wild Escargots de Bourgogne, as the water

dances to Sinatra’s Come Fly with Me,

and I’ve just about named every cliché

in the romance book, minus the flowers—

I had to stuff the Vegas Strip in there, but no,

let me start over now. F was right that day

in Tallahassee when he traced the lines on

my palm and said the three long ones at the end

meant I’d have many great loves in my life,

and how I laughed at F’s face after. And oh, Boy,

was F right, I think, when X asks me on the phone

if I’ve ever been in love, and I say No too fast,

and I might be lying to her, but who really

cares? I used to want to outsex everyone, make

everyone want, make everyone pant,

make everyone chew their steak just a little

harder, order that extra shot of whiskey.

And his lips go wild because I’ve just drank

bourbon—that extra tingle of tongue—

the red lipstick that gets him all messy,

gets me all messy again, gives me the halo

above my Cupid’s bow, and what’s it like

being in lust with a man and a woman

at the same time—it’s like dancing in a corner,

your tank top about to slip off, exposing

nipples, but you keep dancing. And Boy,

I’m a wonder, and when you kiss me,

I think about her red lips kissing me.

Source: Poetry (January 2021)