Lesser Titans by Salvatore Difalco

The excavations generated wealth

but incited crime and heated irons

appeared, harmful to the struggle.


We employed waving, bashing

arms, bloodstained hands

and throat-thunder, no enemy safe.


We piled the mountain up to the nearest star

when an all-powerful being hurled lightning

and threw us back to Earth.


To dreadful sounds, bodies buckled

en masse—though streams of blood

sparked new life and remain transformative,


shaping the angel progeny despised

by those eager for slaughter,

or born to bloody the marble.


Bio

Salvatore Difalco is a Sicilian Canadian poet and author of five small press books, including Black Rabbit & Other Stories (Anvil Press). He currently lives in Toronto.

Author's note

This is part of a group of poems I wrote in spring of 2023, after finally shaking off the Covid cobwebs and doldrums. I’d been reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the poetry of Giacomo Leopardi in its original Italian, which is beautifully and austerely musical. At the same I was flipping through John Ashbery’s The Tennis Court Oath, a book of poetry I’ve always loved if not completely fathomed. Noodling around with pen and paper, infused by the lexicons of Ovid and Leopardi, and prepared to take a few fresh risks, I composed a bunch of these pseudo-mythic pieces, relying more on the lexicons themselves and a natural ordering of the words and rhythms rather than a strict adherence to the myths or classical tropes mined and reprocessed by Ovid or Leopardi. “Lesser Titans” is an example of this work, and one that I think succinctly represents my efforts with these poems.