We spell the words we don’t want him to hear
the words that are profane
which this one is.
One as young as he should not know this word.
We protect him from what will come
and are relieved to see that the bird that we saw this morning,
the one with the bent back wing and scream,
is gone when we get home.
Nature will not protect him though.
It is as if someone was watching us
and reached down to another bird’s nest
to brush out a younger deformed bird.
He watches you as you pick up the tiny remains and put them in a plastic bag.
He knows by the way you handle the bag that this is not trash
We don’t tell him what it is