The collector took someone else’s shirt and pants

so they could display it in a metal drawer

as a souvenir or trophy. Still unironed

a century later, unrecognizable

as a guerrilla uniform. American

soldiers could not tell civilians from fighters.

Cloth from piña fabric, weapons from trees, shields

from carabao horns—the artisan is like

the army man: the earth supplies this resistance.

Stillness is a strategy. What plays dead is just

a watchful eye. One does not need to be found in

order to strike, to be the demise of empire.