They look too young to be killers—slim,
smooth-skinned, barely weaned from their
mother's tits; their sex, he figures, untried.

But they are hot for the revolution, for
overcoming the political order of the day
that has cut short the lives of their brothers, the

chastity of their sisters, the sanity of their
mothers. They've seen their angry fathers dispossessed.
Now, they say, there are only two exits:

Not to be a killer is to be killed. They choose to kill.

© Luis Cabalquinto