Kalliopy Paleos
The Ghost of the Hyères Villa Sends the Drifter a Special Greeting
Out worshipping windsurfers and gear, seeking sideshore winds from inlet to cove, the other house guests leave her to the serenity of a golden afternoon. The summer sun blazes from on high through violet clouds, and she abandons her body into the nestling care of a wooden chaise longue. Her mind floats, making believe it’s her villa, that after surviving the camps it was her late grandfather, not the innkeeper’s, who built this marble terrasse hanging in the sky. That it was her loving elder who hollowed out this celestial pool of blue tiles for the sole purpose of returning heaven’s stare, not the hand whose knuckles and meaty breath she knew so well. Dreaming, she tastes the breezes through her bare skin, the sea swaying below and all the land and cities of the world slowly pulsing concentrically around her. And then – a fluttering geranium petal perhaps, or the cat’s paw alighting – she opens her eyes. On her belly, tiny white cathedrals sparkling. Oh, she thinks, I’ve never seen them so intricate and close up before – and it’s just like they say, each snowflake, so different . . . .
A Fine Filet at the King’s Lady Motel
Same as every other night, the kids ask me what’s for dinner and I always say Some good feet and good hands, you bet! But tonight I add, There’s a treat too. In the shallow stainless steel sink (these motel room sinks are never any good), I sharpen my filet knife and get started. I turn, just so, because I don’t want them peeping and guessing the treat. Meantime, they play a game I can never figure out. There’s a lot of running back and forth to the door, setting the do-not-disturb sign in a spin around the doorknob and shouting, Yep! as they run back.
I used to hate cleaning the flesh. The fileting knife is so thin, and it took time to appreciate why it’s curved. Hands and feet are slippery too. Then, just like people say, once I stopped trying too hard it became easy. I still remember the first time I tried placing my palm more gently on the foot I’d lain on the family cutting board (we always travel with it). Its toes aligned with my fingertips. As if I had been doing it all my life, the flesh of the heel came loose. I’ve learned to cut so that the bones slip right out. I know they’re good for stock, but who has the time these days? We have to stay on the move.
Now I love this comforting act, preparing meals for my children – and myself of course. I’m not above a good meal, and none of us goes hungry.
Once it’s all ready, I call. It’s so pretty on the paper plates.
Oh gosh, mom, lips! And you said you couldn’t find any! I wink at them, a tear in my eye. My heart swells seeing the little ones warm and nourished
Kalliopy Paleos studied contemporary American poetry at SUNY Brockport. She has recently been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and completed her third full-length novel translation from Greek. Poetry publications include pieces in Mediterranean Poetry and Gnashing Teeth Press; her prose has been included in ERGON Magazine for Greek-American Arts and Letters, The Ekphrastic Review, Flash Boulevard, The Mackinaw Journal of Prose Poetry, 10 by 10 Flash Fiction and Gooseberry Pie.
Banner Art:
Photo by Taylor Burnfield, Unsplash, 2025
