Pomegranate Warfare -- poetry by Nora Glass

The war I wage is sweet and red.

Warriors appear in fruit baskets, on counters,

In paper totes, ripe.

I wield a knife,

A cutting board for a shield,

A compost bowl

For the casualties.

They are flavor:

Packed in trenches,

Bags of blooming blood

Serving a ruby crown.

And I, hungry for violence,

Peel the skin

Tear it open

Hold the heart in stained victorious hands.

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Nora Glass is a high-strung 17-year-old from Atlanta, Georgia. Passionate about the theatrical, poetic, and linguistic, she can be found reading, writing, and making unnecessarily complicated spreadsheets. Her work can be found at noraswriting.weebly.com. Most recently book read: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.