a poem for the 35

de ludoglobi


there’s a lot of blood and tea

in this night of Cairo


cups of hope,

cups of death


in Tahrir Square,

death has no hands, it just

lingers like a snake


but nobody fears here about it:

this snake can’t swallow

people’s feelings


their bodies

like a flying carpet to liberty


night will come soon with bullets

and tear gas: the ugly food

of monsterous sphinxes


but everybody is sipping

freedom here