. . . Corso curls up near Shelley,
with Keats a neighbor.
They lie in wait for lightning to bloom
on a cloud, for thunder to shake
the limpid ivy, the last purple
wisterias glowing incandescent
like odd fireflies.
–excerpt from “At the Protestant Cemetery” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in Paterson Literary Review and Feile Festa.