
As kids we were shot by the toy gun
and pretended to be the real dead.
But we’d Lazarus, brush off the bruise,
and wreak revenge.
The rules of war were
only recommendations then.
And we broke them like our bones
as summer boys—and later
our promises, still suggestions,
as men.
About the Poet
Aaron Sandberg lives in Illinois where he writes and teaches English.
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