came blundering in today
through rain-battered sills,
shutters banging in the violet night,
and the fists of half-closed clouds
pounding the windows . . .
–Excerpt from “Dawn” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Stride Magazine.
The storm blew in when we least expected it.
An early darkness swiveled the leaves
in purple silence. When the lights flickered,
a sudden rush of rain framed the still life
of tree on car.
–excerpt from “Gone” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective, Chicago 2013). First published in Imagination and Place Anthology.
Tonight thunder hangs on the sky
like God’s underbelly.
We soon forget the deep rubbings
of crickets in the scorched night
and God becomes kabuki
in a white mask . . .
–excerpt from “Weather” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective, Chicago 2013). First published in America.