Brown crust becomes purple paste, surrendering
the subtleties of pose and posture, a quagmire
turning in time, defying mathematics, softening
to the texture of honey, then plasma pure as martyrdom,
drowning the faithful in a crimson jar of celestial wine
a cannibal would die for.
–excerpt from “San Gennaro” from Chasing the Saints by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 2008), available from vacpoetry.org.