Immured in winter
and chill walls,
I await
visitations:
sometimes you enter
my room, sometimes
the sun - it is almost
the same.
I shall not speak
of your eyes - deep seas
that love to drink
the light.
I shall not speak
of my body - this caique,
the insatiable
journeys we make.
Alone at night
the body remembers
the fiery Medusa
of day, each embrace.
Athens
11 February, 1989