Tag Archives: locusts

Louisiana, Night

Here dusk never cools the air

while rocking the cradle of earth

with the loud lullaby of locusts.

–Excerpt from “Louisiana, Night” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in New Laurel Review.

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Summer’s Lease

The honeyed buzz of locusts

wrings desire from the night’s

dark wanting. Cradled

in summer, too hot to sleep,

they enter the rubbing of wings.

–excerpt from “Summer’s Lease” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). Also published in Cairn and Briar Cliff Review.

Summer’s Lease

The honeyed buzz of locusts

wrings desire from the night’s

dark wanting. Cradled

in summer, too hot to sleep,

they enter the rubbing of wings.

–excerpt from “Summer’s Lease” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in Cairn and Briar Cliff Review.

St. John the Baptist Eats Honey and Locusts in the Desert

The moon is magnified tonight

and I give thanks for your sinuous golden waves,

for your crackling bodies. Tomorrow,

when dawn chills my hermit’s cave,

I will call you by name.

Sweet elixir, gathered from gilded combs

in the blistered feet of afternoon,

the dry wind of evening will soon sift my prayers.

When night swells the pulsing of flesh

and veiled pleasures, I will  come to you,

the ache in my throat catching your thickness,

sucking ardor from the daylong sun,

licking my fingers under a gibbous moon.

–excerpt from “St John the Baptist Eats Honey and Locusts in the Desert” from Chasing the Saints by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 2008). First published in Tar Wolf Review.