Chris Glomski lived and worked for a year in Pisa, Italy before returning to Chicago. He is the author of a chapbook, IL LA, published by Noemi Press, and is at work on translations of various contemporary Italian poets. His poetry is variously informed by Mallarme and the great Italian masters he teaches, studies, and translates. Purchase Transparencies Lifted From Noon from Spuyten Duyvil Press.
To the Day
I would ask that you hold me—if not like spoon to
flame then because I am falling beneath the constant and alien
and fatal in faces. Hurry up good afternoon.
Know I am what you are looking for,
stowed in a hip-pocket as you straddle the nights
and I wish it were true—I do so much there.
Where satellites carve open a green sky, it is enough to look
to be patted down by all of it, and it’s all within me, though you have yet
to see. Suddenly I’m erupting and how quiet.
Grip me as you would blade, then cut away
our proper shapes: your talons, my severed finger—
then for you to perch there, carry me off.
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