Gestation Period Poem by Cristina M. Moldoveanu

beyond the circus curtain there's nothing to be found
you don't have any goods to bid on them
every dream was already booked in advance
everyone searches for a more humane world
but it will be the same forever
with its iron flowers forged at the mental home's gate
with its sad Virgins keeping the body of their son on their lap
with its prodigal children learning how to whistle

and what else can be life
but this savage taming of elephants and dolphins