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To Jennifer Warren's previous piece

Property of Goodwill

I have been woven through time,
on the hands of faith
picking me up with the
knitting needles of promise
and turning me into sweaters
and scarves.
You use me. You say I'm not
cool enough, or hot enough.
You violate me,
squirming inside of me,
making me dirty, ashamed...worn out.
My (mo)hair is tangled,
Snagged and tattered.
I'm not what I used to be.
You say I'm not beautiful
or attractive....
and you toss me out with the faith
that I will find something better.
Labeling me property of Goodwill.

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