“I know the sun would wane seeing our souls’ minerals shine
Veins and muscles are truer than prayer”
            – Mayakovsky.

Fresh as droplets of sperm
are the things that never come back.
You were alive – this morning –
You were alive – and sun shocked –
Your body- equal to a charge of light –
Your womb of peach- swarming-
Eight months, now, brimming with life
Young girl, such a metamorphosis is love
I know- we, women,
are the beasts at the end of the kiss.

To your walk across the poppy fields,
they substracted their stolid souls.
They came with broken bottles,
shaky kittens and stabbing hands,
they came with perforated skulls
to reduce your hearts to none.
We, demons – this race we belong to
– we’d better not know.

Ensnaring the last sunrays,
your hair in the dust is a lake of honey,
your womb a butcher’s shop – emptied.
Eight months, now, deprived of life,
eight months -sucked by soil,
aside.
– At eight, you already have a name-
– At eight, it reduces God’s to none-

I saw your name on the report today
two blood colored kittens- sticky paws,
tried to escape by your left rib.
Your name, girl, tasted as
my bones had been removed.
– Do nuns have overdoses, slash their wrists
Do they hang themselves- simply? –

I don’t know- we, women,
Is it better not to shout and hit?
No one talks about you, Jana,
no one except this red stain on your soil
and all it can say is:
“Harder days are coming”.

(For Jana, 25 years old, and eight months pregnant Croatian girl mentionned in the Trešnjevka Women’s Group report “Women and War” -1992)

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