Pronti, Mirare, Fuoco
A TFP poem
Pronti, Mirare, Fuoco In Omaha, Nebraska, they’re pouring out of the mall, their hands up in surrender, still holding bottled water, holiday shopping, fleeing the gunman inside who has already taken his own life. Wolf Blitzer says we’re due for another catastrophic runway collision since air-traffic controllers are retiring en masse, which means all together. Meanwhile, human safaris continue apace, long after Pope Benedict, played by Anthony Hopkins, issued his second encyclical — Spe Salvi (Saved in Hope). So the local sheriff castrated the double murderer rapist before he could serve his time, and they put him away sometheless. O Castrato! Musico! Evirato! Sing for us! Maybe you’ll be trained to grow flat, like a fruitless espalier, rooted in the Latin spatula, which means shoulder blade. Maybe we'll learn to mouth the words, Pronti, mirare, fuoco.
TFP IS A PROUD MEMBER OF THE IOWA WRITERS COLLABORATIVE
