To Pray To The Goddess Of Lost Things
Help me to find my innocence. I may have dropped it
On the bus last week, when I also lost my cellphone,
And a notebook full of poems. I keep dropping things.
I forget where I've left things. People keep taking my sh**
Without asking. Maybe I've forgotten what I've lent out.
I can't hold it together. I'm trying. I'm trying, so help me
To find my pride. Some punk a** b**h stole it from me,
I'm sure, when I was at the mall. I just turned around
For a second, I was looking for my mother. I was
Updating my Facebook. I was blindsided by something
That must have been important, I was shoulder bumped
By strangers, I was robbed. I searched all my pockets,
My skinny jeans in piles of laundry, my shopping bags,
My crumpled receipts, and it just wasn't anywhere
Where is my dignity, where is my credit card, where are
My self-esteem, my perfect size-two body, my medication,
Where did I leave those? Where is my lipstick, my car keys,
Where is my one true love, my very own happily ever after
Where is my voice. Every time I speak, some man, any man
Always interrupts, and every time I speak louder, he shouts.
He claims he knows far better than I, what I need, what's good
For me. Where is my fire to burn the filth from his tongue.
He wants me to fit into his pants pocket. Where are my knives.
Where is my backbone. Where is my wishbone. Help me.
Find my voice, because some white woman keeps yapping
At me, as if I should drop everything. As if I must listen.
She says she speaks on my behalf. Do not believe her.
She says she's my friend and my sister. She's a dirty liar.
Where are my manners? I seem to have lost those too.
My mother taught me to say please. Please help me find her.
Where is my compa**; this GPS keeps leading me away
From all that is clear and cool. Help me to locate my center.
Where are my manners? My mother taught me also,
To remember to breathe. And always, always give thanks.