Anencephaly (Miroslav Holub)

(Newborn without a brain)
And Jonah was in the belly of the fish
three days and three nights.
And what kind of Jonah?
This one reclines in a crib on the ward,
has the face of a pink toad
and instead of a skull
a bag,
a limp red bag,
pulsating on the pillow.
His mouth-opening forms at times
a short proboscis.
like a tapir searching in bamboo
for Saint Anthony.
And E.rato the muse howls with sorrow in the elevator.
But he is brotherly, he is close
to Nature,
to cauliflower,
to porcupines,
he is genuine, more genuine
than Broca’s brain and Kant’s reason,
he is innocent, more innocent
than Noah’s offspring in the land of Shinar,
than original sin,
than Lucifer’s mafia,
than the thief on the right-hand cross,
Bergson’s seventh reincarnation,
or a surrealist’s daydream.
And what kind of surrealist?
He drinks and excretes,
as decreed by the laws of Mother Earth.
Only a couple
of tainted genes too many
only a couple
of vile enzymes behind the poem,
a tiny avant-garde miracle.
And who would first cast a stone?
Perhaps he has opened the seventh seal
and there is silence In heaven
about the space ofhalfan hour, and the seventh angel
poured out his vial into the air,
and there came a great voice
out ofthe temple ofheaven, saying,
It is done.


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