By Shereen Lee
i slept through most wars.
still, there were many knives in the garden
upon my awakening:
always ready for someone else to sharpen.
the streets were littered with bombs and an
absence of good-luck charms.
my shadow stuffed itself in a box of band-aids,
watched as the pigs fought with the humans.
the dress code for this skirmish was casual, then bloody.
only the years had changed, & the
neighbors from across the street:
first some grass, then a sheep, now three wolves.
Shereen Lee is a small student living on a slightly larger island in Asia.