Refusal Of Pure Thought Poem by Dorina Neculce

Refusal of pure thought

My mothers do not
They're still sneaking their infants
Through the open doors
The face of man
Will look
In another nation
Another religion or country
The mountain of fire will spit
The blood of love
With the tied step
Men do not want
You know how to lie
In cruel truths
Their neck will hang
Like in a deep drill of the snake
The strange head of the bent head
Among herbs of iron
There was only a trace
The jade clock
Counting the moment
In a jarring cry