Unloadening by Lennox Németh
Unloadening
there was a saint once who
separated his head from his body
so that he mightn’t be summoned to deliver such unholy news
with hopes that unsealing would disbar him as messenger
he carried instead his head and delayed ordinance
in a coin purse—business as usual—now companioned by
a mirror to aid in such things where heads are necessary
he rest his head atop this mirror
so that he may see the celestial bodies on reflected surface
void of direct
gaze and
revelation
and so he took to bleeding rivulets and spoons
for concave planes to avert postal impositions
and with flesh and immaterial abstractions
he wandered—daring not part with either
but news, regardless of its appointee’s suspension,
will curdle so scent may still alarm in rejection of sight
look me in the eyes, headless one
bring me what you’ve so long harboured
taciturn lover, return your organs—
rearrange, please,
so I too may see
not through ripples
or fractures
mock me not, headless one
dignify me with the severing to which
you’ve grown so attached
but unable, he dispatched birds to organise entrails and moldening bread—
scattered tidings spelled upon the ground
winged deliverers unloadening what the saint could not
and when departed, he left neither frame nor nest
