mao and sue

sleep like a revolution finds her. she is not helpless even though her head thrown back exposes her neck unaware.

he attacks with wet cliché she smells the beer and hears his laugh. she retreats into guerilla hills.

his is a reactionary force, sloppy with power, impotent, unable to win anything but surface victories, empty houses, sterile fields.

when he leaves confused without enemies except for himself, she will return to grow from healing ground, nourishment.

hers is a long march.