The Failed Revolution


In my childhood's town, there was on top of a five-storey building
a neon sign “Jesus Saves,” I asked the mother what Jesus saves.
Souls, she said, without looking up, she was reading
the communist manifesto at the time, dreaming of the day
when workers would be the new upper class.
Mother tried to immigrate to the Soviet Union but was turned
down, she had no skills other to but sardines in a tin.
Mother made rice pudding that day, and I was allowed to
scrape the brown sticky residue in the ***.
A famous capitalist sits in jail somewhere in Siberia, but
is allowed to be in contact with the world via the internet
protesting his innocence; he was not stealing oil from his
own company. No, there is no revolution in Russia.