I thought you would make things certain
Like a window nailed shut to the sill.

Days thread in and out of months.
People walk by.
My neighbor
Eats an orange outside my door

And in the evening I pick it up
Swirl the peels over the table
And don’t wipe it for months.


It’s as if his poems happen twice.
First as the bullet that pierces the skin;
second as the tracer whose flare
ribbons the dark with carmine.

Read Valerio Magrelli’s “I’ve often imagined gazes” at Poetry International >>