insomniac revolution

I start a revolution every night.
My palms turn wet.

Little by little
The white mosquito net too turns red.

In the white bed sheet
The word “defeat” spreads

And I see Irabot’s statue
Standing still and surrendering
To the goddess Kali.

And above the statue
There flies the Pablo bird
Without its feather.

And I see the socialist poets
Reading poetry with their fists in air
At Mayakovsky’s statue

Still I walk out of my bed
Alive to start another revolution