god is

a mirage in the desert,

where the camel comes to drink

and finds nothing but sand.

–excerpt from “god is” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in Cairn.

Advent

. . . Un-embraceable night

fills with wisps of wanting,

thoughts of old lovers, the dead

and dying, falling through space.

Our open palms hold only

lamentations . . . .

–excerpt from “Advent” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). Published in The Christian Century and The Wonderbook of Poetry.

Mortality

We will surely live forever

on the edge of reality, spirit-stems

blooming invisible buds.How vicious death would be if final,

the coup-de-grace of all

our useless gatherings.

–excerpt from “Mortality” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in Home Planet News.

The Memory

. . . My hands

shake from the cold, emotion,

or the cup of Arabica,

a small white anchor

for my ship of sorrows.

–excerpt from “The Memory” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in North Dakota Quarterly.

Lines to Gregory Corso

Protestant Cemetery, Rome

. . . Let the Tiber remind me of all your quirky songs

shrouded in cigarette smoke,

the odd fragmented verses

rendered stoned and eloquent

from the sofas of friends.

–excerpt from “Lines to Gregory Corso” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in PoetryMagazine.com.

While waiting

for the night, we decide

we must leave now

while we can.

New York is sinking.

We go to Pompeii, itself a reminder

that nothing is permanent.

–excerpt from “While waiting” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in America.

Languages

I have swallowed the seed of languages.

It grows in me like the tree

my mother promised me

when I swallowed the pips

in the orange juice.

Little words sprout like aliens . . .

–excerpt from “Languages” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in North Dakota Quarterly.