A Poem by Anna Woodford

Evening Prayers

The way the monk prostrates
in front of all-comers

flat out in his lit robes,
revealing his maroon socks

are threadbare is all I need
to know of sex. I don’t know

where to look. My hands are awkwardly
shaped into a begging bowl on my lap.

The door to this room is wide open.
Anyone can tip up off the street.

Anna Woodford’s most recent collection is Changing Room (Salt, 2018). She won the Wigtown Prize in 2020. Anna has been previously published in a wide range of magazines including the TLS, The Poetry Review, and The Rialto.