Tag Archives: Italy

To My Village

San Donato di Ninea

Calabria, Italy

The sun rises over the edge of the world.

Olive trees cloud the hills like October snow.

–excerpt from “To My Village” in Ghost Garden by Donna Pucciani.

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Bilingual Dictionary

Old friend, its brittle pages drift, like Dante,

through the purgatories of language,

or like Beatrice, who, from her cloud of love,

opens the gate of paradise, la porta del paradiso.

–Excerpt from “Bilingual Dictionary” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in nebu[lab].

Booksellers, Taormina

Just above the Cyclops Restaurant,

up stone steps smelling of eucalyptus,

broods the bookstore, breathing the decay

of tarnished roses pasted under the noon rain.

Inside, life is made of words . . .

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

In Rome

I swim like a fish

through vowels bubbling

in the fountains of Villa Borghese.

My tongue grows consonants,

coins in Neptune’s bath, my lips

become fins in the Trevi . . .

–Excerpt from “In Rome” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in PoetryMagazine.com.

April in Florence

. . . Somewhere else people are dying,

but here, the living are lifted

into the morrow, turning down

their beds as lights go on all over

the city where Dante dreamed

of Beatrice on his way to Paradise.

–Excerpt from “April in Florence” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago 2016). First published in Summerset Review.

Outside Rome

life limps along

without crowds and Michelangelo.

Graffiti is the conversation here,

stray dogs, trams, markets

with Moroccan leather and shoes

made in China.

–excerpt from “Outside Rome” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in PoetryMagazine.com

Letter from Italy

A full moon spells memories

of Cousin Rosetta’s kitchen,

six hours south, where the family

gathers for pasta and eggplant,

local cheese, miraculous meats.

Crossword puzzles in Italian and English

pepper the night with random words.

Our foreign tongues peck the air

like sparrows hungry for seed . . .

–excerpt from “Letter from Italy” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in PoetryMagazine.com.