Please Come

. . . You will sleep your jet-lagged sleep

in a chorus of crickets, listen to the wind

for which our fair city is famous . . .

–excerpt from “Please Come” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani.

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Carlo’s Axe

West New York, circa 1922

Retrieving an axe among jars of marinara,

he met the eyes of  the Sicilian thug

with his own steel . . .

–excerpt from “Carlo’s Axe” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani. First published in Italian Americana and Pennine Ink.

Inheritance

These tresses love wind, not comb,

quiver like chinchillas, like the tails of piglets . . .

–excerpt from “Inheritance” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani.  First  published in Fifth Wednesday Journal.

Mediterranea: To Eat and Be Eaten

I crave the waters

of the ancestors on the hill,

their amniotic love.

–excerpt from “Mediterranea: To Eat and Be Eaten” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani.

Calabria and Back

Sleep as long as you like, my hills.

No need to guard my cousins. They are

inside me.

–excerpt from “Calabria and Back” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani. First published by Cold Mountain Review.

Carmen and Pasquale at Bergamo Airport

Your eyes  glisten like the last buds of autumn.

We carry the luggage of your love.

It weighs nothing. . . .

–excerpt from “Carmen and Pasquale at Bergamo Airport” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani. First published in The Christian Century.

Nunc Dimittis

. . . Now, in the last fraction of my life,

Calabria has found me. Zia Delina

puts on her best dress for me.

Rosetta bakes the eggplant of love . . . .

–excerpt from “Nunc Dimittis” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani. First published in Iodine Literary Journal.