Thin Line
by Carolyn Adams / May 31st, 2026
Even young, I was aware
I didn’t know the code,
the handshake, the nod.
An outsider.
I wasn’t welcome.
I grew a scar on
that knowledge.
In periphery
I saw that thin line
I couldn’t cross.
I wasn’t enough
of something necessary.
Conversations ran past me,
points made I didn’t understand.
Not the right school,
the right house,
the right amount of money.
I could emulate, mimic,
code-switch.
But that slender margin
stayed, became a gulf,
and I was held in place
by that thin, thin line.
Carolyn Adams’ poetry and art have appeared in
Steam Ticket,
Cimarron Review,
Evening Street Review,
Inflection Review, and
Blueline Magazine, among others. She is the editor and publisher of the
Oregon Poetry Calendar. Having authored four chapbooks, her full-length volume,
Going Out to Gather has been published by Fernwood Press. Her poetry has been nominated multiple times for both Best of the Net and a Pushcart prize.
Read other articles by Carolyn.
This article was posted on Sunday, May 31st, 2026 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.
