18 Months Without a Head
The crowing reaches morning sunlight
as an unhurried gurgle, alive still & Lloyd Olsen
whimpers from nightmare to daybreak, dry heaves Mike’s
sunrise anthem. Perched among the hens, the rooster
need not have frightened the neighbors outside
closed curtains. No one wanted to see the rooster without a
warning. Even Lloyd, especially Lloyd who missed
dinner & lost grip that September
evening to axe a species into legend. His bird unhinges
simple realities—sky is blue, can’t live with
head cut off. Scuffing wings announce an en-
lightened body flipping off quaking onlookers. Mike defies
mutilation, flashes Lloyd an unweighted neck hole
Pam Haas is a senior English major and philosophy minor at SUNY Geneseo. Her hobbies include exploring, procrastinating, performing slam poetry, and not thinking about graduating. She also loves to sleep in and fight the patriarchy, but usually not on the same day.