Now i have placed my hands in my pockets
[- James Tate]
Having mouths, the question bothers
true ventriloquists. It articulates
a negligence. Like the spent helicopter
it won’t make the sanatorium. On
sickening, most extremities
spoil mawkishly. Most preclude
discovery. Invalids chime, dandled strops,
nauseometers. There are lost teeth,
conditions of the blood one is
only ever privileged to inquisit
dimly, underproductive sockets,
mucilage up to thickening. Most harbor
the sole cancers for which they are named.
So we Accordions implore you—
sore sonics’ isosceles blare—
have pity and restore us our whirlybird.
So we our Jectures fail.
Fabled Asphyx, Otherthan, we commit
Unction. We rinse the crucible, eleven
times we halve—rotor’s assimilate bwaar—
Peter Longofono received his MFA from NYU, where he edited international content for Washington Square Review and served as a Goldwater Fellow. Recently, he has joined forces with Alissa Fleck to host this season’s Graduate Poets Series at Cornelia St. Cafe in Manhattan. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in H_NGM_N, Cumberland River Review, and The Journal. He lives in Brooklyn.