I still sleep like a nomad 

On the ground 

in a sleeping bag 

Under a mosquito net. 

The only thing that 

has changed 
is the arrival of 

The tiger mosquito 

The polio virus

An unbearable smell 

Of swamp around the tent

The pictures of the dead 

laid out in white endless 
rows
next to each other
Shrouds soaked in blood 

Day by day.

I dreamed I saw 

a large teddy bear 

Drop down from heaven
Bullets riddle the clear 
blue sky, 
piercing his soft heart
In the rising 
of a newborn 
bloodred sun

Even dead, he finds no home.