NEW FEATHERS ANTHOLOGY
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Picture
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.
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