The Manchester Review
Leontia Flynn
Catullus
Poetry
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8 - 24

Oh honeybunch, of boys you are the fruit
– not just of our age, no, but since men were
in the beginning, are, and ever shall be –
I’d rather see you give the City’s wealth
to him (who has no worldly goods or savings)
than let yourself be loved by him this way.
What, isn’t he too sweet? you ask. He is.
He’s sweet and has no worldly goods nor savings.
You’ll brush that off, so let me just repeat:
He hasn’t any worldly goods or savings.