Poem by Chloe Koutsoubelis

Penelope

She knows by now
the Sirens are not fools

they sing thinking of creating art
nor the old Circe
in her lust
hidden in windbags forever sealed
nor the misbehaving Nausica
trapped in the wrong age

in white socks and childish dresses.
Nor the Lestrygonians nor the lotus
that keep him away from her.
Nor Poseidon’s petty angers
and the mix-ups with his old companions.
Penelope knows by now
her last message will remain unanswered,
they’ll never talk to each other again,
logic compels him to stay away from her,
all over her
suitors drink raki
and roll like lions in the arena
males who sniff lust
and with their arrows define space.
And Odysseus?
Penelope doesn’t remember of him anymore.
Only that one night she slept with a stranger
and when she asked of his name
he answered: ‘I’m No one’

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Possible Deformities

They placed the mirror inside the box

They covered the box with a blanket

Now they could move around freely

they could cough gesture kneel

pour water convincingly in the vase

with large paper flowers However they stayed silent

weak-willed sorrowful motionless from fear that perhaps the

mirror spied on them intensely from depths presenting

their idols as gigantic disproportional upside down

with gigantic feet and without any heads

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