Seven Years War

By Lazarus Trubman

For Dr. Christopher Pead

Death has the face of an unshaven man; red eyes, bad breath. Begging for mercy—logs in the fire: burn, baby, burn; scream, woman, scream; cry, old man, cry…

In the street in front of a hotel two children are playing; a boy of five, rachitic, and a girl with a toy pistol. They are playing on a serious note, and the little boy, rather petulant and unwilling, is told to stand up against the piss-stained wall. He can’t understand that he is then supposed to fall down. The girl shows him how—with all the experience of her seven years.