KONSTANTIN FISCHER, HANIA, CRETE
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
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