Crotch Poem by Mischa Andriessen

Two shadows, he opened
the door, did as he was told
by pulling on his shoes, walked
with the steaming coats, accepted
the cigarette, the place in the back
of the waiting car. Not ten minutes later
he was standing naked in a room
taking his hands away from his crotch
turning on request to face the wall
feeling in accordance with instructions
how smooth it was, like glass, but dark.
That was all. They returned his clothes
kept watching until he was dressed
looked back briefly as if to make sure
his departure wasn't some kind of mistake
walked out of the building, took a quiet road
home, where he bolted the door
nervously pulled plugs out of sockets
carefully crept into bed beside his sleeping wife,
wrapped himself in a blanket, asked
if he could have the light off, please.

Translation: 2017, David Colmer