Is it Your Girl, Mr. BoJo?
by Michael Copeland
Is it your girl, Mr. BoJo, they enslaved and raped and raped,
Coldly marketing her sex for ready cash?
Is it your wife they demean with their insulting cries of “Whore!”,
And assure her that her pretty face they’d smash?
Is it your boy who was picked on all the time when at his school,
Who was threatened he’d be given broken bones?
Is it your car that they vandalise and seek to set on fire,
And your house they keep targeting with stones?
Is it your road where they park and double-park outside the house,
Or urinate in driveways and in yards?
Oh no, sorry. I forgot. It isn’t like that. Silly me!
At your place there’s a gate with well-armed guards.
For previous essays by Michael Copeland, see the Michael Copeland Archives.