Route 7 Review | Page 93

To the Idea of War BY Maria Picone Sun-Tzu called you an art; our policy-makers called you necessary; to them, art often isn’t. In the news, you’re the monster in the closet; too much light falls on you to frighten us. In execution, you’re a prodigal son, throwing away money and lives on foreign soil. In our bouquet, a bloom of blood blossomed as we, helpless, watched you soldier on.