Recollected

Dolor squeezes through the cracks

of memory–the career that never was,

the shock of suicide. In the blur

of work, food, sleep, we sigh…

–Excerpt from “Recollected” in Donna Pucciani, A Light Dusting of Breath (Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2016).

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Two Photographs

A pair of framed pictures

lurks on the bathroom walls,

a shred of elegance…

–From “Two Photographs” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in All Roads Lead You Home.

Ghost Weather

The storm blew in from the west

as predicted, a little before midnight,

not long after a blue moon

lit the sky…

–From “Ghost Weather” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Chiron Review.

The Going

Before dawn, we drop the cousins

at the airport. In a few hours,

they will be reveling in the spray

of Niagara, babbling in Italian…

–From “The Going” by Donna Pucciani

First published in Plainsongs.

For Tony in Italy

Your oxygen tank follows you

like a stray cat

since the heat of October

rose in the mountain air

that you couldn’t get enough of….

From “For Tony in Italy” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Clark Street Review.

Pipe, Figs

A small black bowl on a tortoise-shell stem

curves in the shape of his carpenter’s hands.

Yesterday I thought of him…

–From “Pipe, Figs” by Donna Pucciani.

Quake

The gods were still drunk

from Saturday night. They

spilled their revelry

in the dawn of Umbria…

–From “Quake” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Encore 2016.

Time Change, Capodarco

The clocks banish daytime

for another hour Floriana

boils cabbage and potatoes

for tonight’s dinner.

No internet here in the old

farmhouse….

–From “Time Change, Capodarco” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Peacock Journal.

The Arno by Night

…That first night, in love

with the Florentine darkness,

we flung open the shutters . . .

–From “The Arno by Night” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Turtle Island Quarterly.

Bernini’s Saints

Poised above the columns of St. Peter’s,

their marbled sanctity observes

the squawking gulls circling for food

and finding none…

–From “Bernini’s Saints” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Sanskrit Literary Arts Review.

Going to Rome

…to chase romance in seedy hotels

we are too old for now, to buy apples

and cheese from the market, to sit…

–From “Going to Rome” by Donna Pucciani.

First published in Roanoke Review.