By S. S. Hicks
How long did it take
turning battlefields into blooms?
Nourished from fallen soldiers,
clutching hearts not their own.
Nameless warriors, yesterday’s schoolboys
with combed hair and brushed teeth.
Given bayonets, helmets and cigarettes,
whispering to their mamas as they
colored fields with their death.
By Nick Dunster
“Why’s the sky blue?” the little boy asks his father.
“Not actually too sure,” his father replies.
“And how long would it take to swim to the bottom of the ocean?”
“Hard to say,” his father says, rubbing his cheek.
“Is there an edge to the universe?”
“Well, you know, there might be. There’s an edge to most things.”
“So what’s on the other side?”
“Ah, you’ve got me there,” his father says, smiling.
“Do you mind me asking you all these questions?” the boy asks.
“Not at all,” the father replies. “How else are you going to learn anything?”
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