bah, bah, black sheep

i am the one
who gets all the stares,
eyes linger over tattoos,
piercings and dyed hair.
not a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
just a wearer of wool,
trying to stay warm.

i am the one
who grew up at gilman street
going deaf from the decibels
dumb from the drugs;
the runaway
dreaming in cars, wanting
to wake up
in another state.

i am the one
who is not afraid
to stray
from the fold,
to walk
with a pack on her back
for three months,
across ten countries,
learning new language
and human nature.

i am the one
who educated the public
about their privates,
first as an owner of the cooperative
then as a shareholder of the corporation
and finally
as an employee of the cleveland porn king.

i am the one
who can’t count sheep;
the insomniac
with a prescription for sleep,
the diabetic
with disordered eating,
preferring the perfumed flavor of ethnic cuisine
to a low-cal

i am the one
who believes
in tradition with a twist,
marriage in an aquarium,
kisses among the fishes.

i am the one
who lost her mother,
gained her father
and found herself,
the black sheep
of my own family,
the even blacker sheep
of his.

bah, meh.


One response to “bah, bah, black sheep

  1. Thanks for sharing this poem. It speaks (to me) of a life that though hard, sometimes painful, has a hidden pheonix. Was it hard to write? I imagine tears, plus a sense of dignity, when you wrote it. The repitition gives the piece a build up of the story. Good luck with the writing course. You’ll do well.

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