A Poem For Sunday


“The Pillow” by Cyrus Cassells:

He touches her breasts, a sunburned neck, a back bent
from years in the fields.
And now she lifts to him in the moonlight
her belly, as pale
as a Nō mask—

It has been like this
for decades, the two of them
lying together on the futon:
See, their bodies have twisted
into an old branch.

(From The Mud Actor © 1982 by Cyrus Cassells. Used by permission of the author. Photo by Andrea Addante)