Sun Tzu
is sunning himself
hoping you
will attack
or perhaps

a master of deception
he is painting now
of portrait of death
(the reds
are the blood of battle)

on the beach the bloated carcasses
of those who marched against him
dispatched so
easily it is almost as if
they did it themselves
(you thought they were
beached whales but
did not figure
on tricks
of perspective)

already he is hard
at work, strategizing, dividing
you from me and
from all
other readers

before we move a pawn two spaces
he has out-thought us
the blowflies
(who have never heard
of his art) will
be happy to make
our acquaintance