Gail Foster Poet Sonnet

Public Property

I’m living on the street, that does not make
Me yours to feed with food I do not eat 
Though I may lay my hat before your feet
My history is not your tale to take.

I’m old, I’m poor, I’m ill, I haven’t got
A pot to piss in, or a welcome mat 
You still don’t get to patronise, or pat
My head as if you think I’ve lost the plot.

I’m pregnant, I’m in prison, I’m alone
I’m lost, I’m frightened in a foreign land 
I’m vulnerable, but not, you understand
Your *****. My mind and body are my own.

So touch me not, nor tell my tale for me
For I am not your public property.

© Gail Foster 17th May 2018

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