In the hush after coupling,
calm's pearled cotillion,
we listen as if,
at an iridescent hour,
the Pyrenees themselves
could sing--
How simply it crests within us,
this heaven-in-the-other,
human, yet unsurpassed.
On this long night
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Love Poem of the Pyrenees, by Cyrus Cassells
of lilac and tobacco,
we praise its sweetness,
knowing the spiritless squander it
as maquillage,
or a pitiless scepter
in a place of incest--
Find the bell pull,
bring down the morning star
to allay us:
sex is a troubadour's pulse,
a song:
bivouac of twilight
bridge of mountain dawn.
From "Beautiful Signor" by Cyrus Cassells (Copper Canyon: 112 pp., $14) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.
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