Slaughter

They-

wanted me to fail-

expected me to-

secretly 

suffer.

They

believed him

who spoke in tongues

dripping with alcohol-

venom-

or temptation.

They

assumed some-

thing some-

one else 

knowing naked and shorn

They

could never make it through

the frozen nights

of solitude.

They

estimated-

were mistaken and

some, like me, would say

unlucky

betting on the black sheep

betting on the lamb

who is the wolf

you feed-

and the bitten hand

that continues to write through the pain.

Painting by William Sidney Cooper, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Flox

The black sheep and black swan

Do not bother splitting hairs, as in, ungathering

Letting go, and making it

into something new 

by sheer luck-no gander

Bears resemblance by proximity. 

Image credited by Percy Benzie Abery [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Hymn of Ewe

Faith is the wool blanket 

woven by the flock

who sheepishly sew 

contentedly knitting 

nestled in envied green knolls

bleating a single string 

in wandering white streams 

hiding in the herded folds

matted in the material of dreams

tucking in their ears

softly in numbers

Image of painting 'Strayed Sheep' 1852, by William Holman Hunt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.