National Poetry un-Month

[sunstealer]

Bad Sheep

Midnight’s merely blue,

but me, me, me, I’m
through
and through
sloe, cracked soot-
on-a-boot,
nicotine spat, licorice whip.
You can scratch, scratch, scratch
but I stay underskin true
to ebony, ink, crowberry, pitch;
hoist me up by my hooves
and shake till I’m shook, I’m still
chock full of coke, fuliginous
murk.
O there’s swart in my soul,
coal by the

Comments

[artricia]

Nice.

I wonder how many Leithausers there are. She must be related to Brad.