A Dance

her swollen lips purple from the strike that lasted days upon days and then crashed; collapsed, heady and bold she did. no reinforcements; no warrior angels; no goddamn swooping army. bent and cracked, heaving against the floor, in no salute, but information – extracted information from the baboon faced general, yes. very soon, her arms would give in and another body will burn atop the pillar, unnamed and naked. camps ready, enemies will blaze through and baboon general will trample the soil, scatter his urine across chained daughters of the revolution.

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CARD DRAWN:

SEVEN OF SWORDS

THIS IS THE TAROT CHALLENGE, a 78-day writing challenge where everyday I pick out a random card from my tarot deck and write something about, against, inspired by, based on the card by the day’s end. The works can range from poetry to fiction to drama. When the card is from the major arcana, the title of the work should be the card name. When the card is from the minor arcana, the title can be different but the card drawn should be revealed at the end.

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