KONSTANTIN FISCHER, HANIA, CRETE

THE KISS

We met in the small parking lot

of the market, at the infamous bench

under the tree – don't taste its fruit – , we met

by pure coincidence:

you were in town for just a day,

never told me your name.

Your shivering voice

took me back to my own

first days of desire.

Your closed eyes

trembling shields

against haram.

the lids of the mask hanging between the windows

in my house: smooth, black, balanced

as soft, as vulnerable, as tempting

as your touch.

Konstantin Fischer, 2012 / 2014