Easter Vigil

. . . a celebration of absence, the narrow shift

between dark and dawn, alleluias found

in a crevasse of infinite light.

–Excerpt from “Easter Vigil” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Evansville Review.

Easter Vigil

The sky bleeds strawberries

over the Lancashire hills

on Holy Saturday night.

Churches spire their Gothic hopes

heavenward, awaiting Resurrection

among red clouds, nudging the night

into silver . . .

–Excerpt from “Easter Vigil” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Evansville Review.

Good Friday

The tale of nails and wood

is retold on the BBC from Winchester

with hymns about a balm in Gilead,

a wondrous cross, and the choirboys’ echo

of the Faure’ Requiem . . . .

–Excerpt from “Good Friday” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Sojourners.

After the Solstice

. . . I am drugged with the expectation

of lilacs in bud and robins nesting again

in the eaves. But for now,

the cold is my epiphany,

and darkness my star.

–Excerpt from “After the Solstice” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Flint Hills Review.

After the Solstice

Every day, more light, they say, and yet

sky smothers earth like an old pillow.

Squirrels hide in clumps of leftover leaves.

Trees inscribe eternal winter on the roofs.

–Excerpt from “After the Solstice” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Flint Hills Review.

Together Apart

He sits in his chair,

the blue light of the television

bathing his face,

in evenings too soft

to be winter,

a season lost to vanished snows.

–Excerpt from “Together Apart” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Iodine Poetry Journal.

Hunger

. . . Spring will bring mud

and blossom, meringue

sugaring a cloud of leaves.

–Excerpt from “Hunger” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Cairn.