Little boy bones.
Crushed under the weight of hard-line masculine agenda;
A solemn rite,
A poison called elixir,
Told to smack your lips at the taste like iron,
From the blood of Christian warriors,
Chivalry turned violent, turned blind-
Your only mirror, a blade.
The death of generations of manhood in that cup, that elixir you’re forced to swallow.
"Little Boy Bones,"
The Peregrine Review: Vol. 34, Article 32.
Available at: https://mosaic.messiah.edu/peregrinereview/vol34/iss1/32