My Cardboard Balcony

Goats With Enchanted Daggers by Belinda Roddie When hiking on the mountainside, one has to send a glancing eye to goats atop the cliffs and craggers carrying enchanted daggers The blades are bright, and yet imbued with a dark and malicious hue They all can poison every braggart who huffs until he's haggard The goats themselves have horns so tall they rival the Chinese Great Wall They're seen from space, no laughing matter as their pointed hooves do clatter And as they bleat, you'd best progress up the slope to your next great test though I can't think of bolder swagger than goats with enchanted daggers

This is the place where they marked us. I remember the moment I screamed. It's quite the sensation to be branded, to be labeled, to be burned with the insignia of somebody else. It's not exactly a romp in the park to be deemed someone else's property. Yet, here we are, with all the fires around us. The ones we set in the middle of the night.