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oppositional poetry, prose, polemic


Peter Street
Sheep Inheritance
I am a sheep
that’s what the family call me
a black one. I have tried painting myself
a colour they want me to be
gone through all the rainbow
each one just seems to slide off
like its not meant, not suited
worst still I’ve dripped all over their best
carpets, stained, for everyone to see,
talk about, while they chew and swig down
a bit more bigotry
Peter Street © 2007