Maurya Simon
Sex has its absolutes. It is its own religion.
First the benediction, radiant prayer
offered up to the flesh. Then sweet epiphany,
the climax of such faith, light behind the parchment.
A blushing afterglow
gives testament to ardor:
the denouement, God's grace, post-coital bliss.
We dwell in praise of this, this union, this X.
Page 19, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 26