One Poem by MJ Iuppa

Morning, Listening to that Faint Thunder

This distance appears scripted. How terribly
strange, lying here, counting on what is
expected to echo resistance—wheeling
its weight against woods struck by a silver
light that glows within those ghostly ash.

Gone— as predicted, quick & insidious, like
the sudden blister of chanterelles begging
to be plucked from the base of forgotten oaks,
before something else steals them, without
realizing what delicacies they are.

A revelation, the master chef says, with her
eyes closed, and I believe her, sensing
the tug of hunger, or is it the rumble of
faint thunder, rising high in the clouds,
breaking open, over my head.


M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 30 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.

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