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).

Doctor

You had been dizzy with a vertigo

that had no name, no passage except the spinning, which,

even reclining, made you feel

like a bird falling from the nest.

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

Teachers

I feel lighter now,

as though I have lost body parts

one by one, watching them

sink like stones . . .

–Excerpt from “Teachers” in Donna Pucciani, A Light Dusting of Breath (Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2020).

Muti’s Left Hand

His right hand gives the downbeat

with the stick. The opening chords

rise into the chandelier netted

with lights and microphones.

–Excerpt from “Muti’s Left Hand” in Donna Pucciani, A Light Dusting of Breath (Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2016).

Italian Tutorial

Three pupils gather at the table,

arranging their books. They ignore

the snow falling outside the library,

the grey sky lowering…

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

At the Movies

Today we sit in the dark,

thigh to thigh. Popcorn butters us

with its ubiquitous embrace.

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

 

WinterWillow Graffiti, Berlin

As if the snow that fell yesterday

were not thick enough, ready

to become slush over mud and under boots.

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

Planetary

Today, however, is much like any other day.

I get up early, walk, shower, eat a sensible breakfast,

and sit at my desk to work.

–Excerpt from Donna Pucciani, A Light Dusting of Breath (Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2019).