by Christos Polydorou

The light
the room

just like
the room

the light;
there is

taking place
both in the nature
of light (η φύση του φωτός)

and in the nature
of the room (η φύση του δωματίου)

so that one is
indivisible to
the other. I am

imagining Penelope again,
she represents an eternal figure
of perseverance and patience. Odysseus

might not come back from sea,
or he might. She might
look up one morning

and he might not be there
or she might look up
and he will. The nature

of the journey of Odysseus
is affecting the nature of
the loneliness of Penelope.

Meanwhile, in the present moment, Thursday,
right before noon, I am looking
out the window, waiting, myself.

For? I am not sure.
I can’t tell what it is.
Because I have not seen it yet.

The nature of my imagination
and the nature of my reality
permeate each other

leaving me feel
(sometimes καποτε)
out of time and place

within my
time. I had carried

this cup of coffee
so carefully up the stairs
since I filled it to the brim.

I cautiously
a sip.