Exhale, Exhale

By Cristina Perissinotto

Exhale, Exhale explores the many facets of love, including nostalgia, separation, and newly-found happiness. These terse poems describe various passages of a love story unravelling between two continents, from the lonesome nights of a distant relationship to the abstract imperative of finding happiness within oneself. With a voice that is both wry and tender, the author guides the reader through a journey to the depths of the human soul, in search of what comes after love. Poet and scholar Cristina Perissinotto has enjoyed important life passages in Montreal, Ficulle, Ottawa, Champaign-Urbana, Portogruaro and Venice. Her poetry is published both in Italian and in English. Professor Perissinotto teaches in the Italian Studies and Medieval Studies Program at the University of Ottawa. Exhale, Exhale is her first collection of poems. {Guernica Editions}

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guernica
• Release date: Jan 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781550715385

Cristina Perissinotto

Poet and scholar Cristina Perissinotto has enjoyed important life passages in Montreal, Ficulle, Ottawa, Champaign-Urbana, Portogruaro and Venice. Her poetry is published both in Italian and in English. Professor Perissinotto teaches in the Italian Studies and Medieval Studies Program at the University of Ottawa. Exhale, Exhaleis her first collection of poems.

Book preview

HALLETT

STORM

Ode to Xangô

Come to me.

I waited for you the whole day,

thought you would never make it.

The air got stiff in the afternoon

and I could not breathe.

Swallows flew on my deck in a frenzy,

spreading their wings, ascending

and descending with the air currents.

As I breathed the sultry wind

I knew you were coming.

The upper atmosphere got darker,

the sky thundered and the trees rippled.

A fragrant wind, heavy with smells

from sand cities and fish towns,

blew over my open palms.

I could smell your arrival in the air,

feel you on my skin. At night, I fell

asleep by the window,

waiting.

Wake me.

Take me when the night is at its darkest.

Inundate my bedroom with thundering

splashes, let me open my eyes

to finally see you in all your

luminous liquid glory.

OF ARRIVING BY NIGHT, DEPARTING BY DAY

Clouds plunge and resurface

like milk in a teacup. Down one plain,

up another. I fly over round hills

the color of slightly-burnt

peaks of soufflé. Rows of houses

shine like recapped teeth.

Real people live there, who tonight

will sleep in their own beds.

Just before New York, the juiciest sunset

peeks out of the clouds. Orange and purple.

Juice and blood.

Clouds open up over a forest of lights

all the way to the bay. The city at night

an immense candelabrum.

Roads flicker by, parks

are large enclaves where no firefly

would dare to nest.

It is dark when I arrive. From my car

the profile of the hills against the dark sky

indistinguishable. In a few hours

I’ve flown across America,

cradle of my dreams.

Interview. It is, of course, a code word.

What they mean is a day-long mating