Lake House Guns Is it ever only a toy? Robert Bly in my ears talking campfire men who cry handling a sword. I get pissed at my nephews, firing Nerf guns, water guns, any gun—cocking pathologically until my daughters join the effort, pinning a hapless cousin in a bedroom corner. The squad rains doom, & I think it’s good for them—girls are better off not taking shit from anyone. Let them get hit & hit back, learn to handle them. So, I quit bitching about guns, firing equitably— no one’s watching them decide what’s fair play, protest the other child a coward. Max Heinegg's poems have appeared locally in Nixes Mate, Pangyrus, and Ibbetson Street Review. He lives in Medford, MA, where he teaches high school English and is the co-founder of Medford Brewing Company.
Like the title says.