At the Protestant Cemetery

. . . 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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s