Photo by J. R. Korea
Cowbird
Carolyn Adams
What do you tell yourself
when you rip at a son,
corrupt a daughter?
How do you explain
to the grotesque furniture
of your life
that what you’ve done
comes from a place of love?
When you’ve had your way,
the damage should haunt,
but sly, furtive,
it slips under cover,
as if
nothing happened,
while you
disintegrate
a family.
But you’re absolved.
Your cruelty
is someone else’s
offspring now.
Carolyn Adams
What do you tell yourself
when you rip at a son,
corrupt a daughter?
How do you explain
to the grotesque furniture
of your life
that what you’ve done
comes from a place of love?
When you’ve had your way,
the damage should haunt,
but sly, furtive,
it slips under cover,
as if
nothing happened,
while you
disintegrate
a family.
But you’re absolved.
Your cruelty
is someone else’s
offspring now.