Taken from Chris Wesley's Poetry Chapbook:

Pack Animals

“YOU PEOPLE.”

That’s how I address them.

When my mom tells me
that I took a trait from her
I reiterate that

“I'M NOT LIKE ANY OF YOU PEOPLE.”

My sister protests,
but I remind her
of all the pictures
of me as a toddler
with my mom restraining me
as I attempt to run away.

I tell my sister
that I was switched at birth
and I was trying to escape
to find my real family
but “YOUR PEOPLE”
kept catching me
before I could get away.
I tell her that she only thinks
I’m her brother because
that’s what "HER PEOPLE" tell her
and that somewhere out there
is a family looking at their son

AND WONDERING

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?”

JUST LIKE I DO.