Strane Città Sognante

After Elsa Morante, Diario 1938

This evening, the rain has abandoned the city
like water thrown from a half-broken

glass. Strane Città Sognante –
all night and I can’t breathe these words

into English. The moon
is air-blue – it has almost

lost purpose – a small emblem
of light. Strange dreaming cities– really –

should work – cities held in the dark –
maybe – a moon hanging low

between waves of deep sleep
and a shattered-glass river – a street

stretching towards the point of new
skies. All night, the bells pulling and pushing

like hearts. All night, a city is formed
...