I began my collection years ago
When a seven year old
Casually mentioned to me
That her father liked to put his hands in her panties at night
She explained how daddies show their little girls affection
As she giggled, and brushed her doll's hair
I took her story
And set it on my nightstand
And tried to forget it was there
Soon my nightstand became overwhelmed
No serenity candles
No half read books for pleasure
Jhalil's brother died in his arms
Danielle's mother sold her for crack
Tanya's boyfriend beats her
Calls her stupid
She's pregnant
I put the stories in a box
With no lid
Pressed together they may become distorted
Or [?] together
When the box overflows I take from my collection
I remember the young mouths
Old eyes, damaged hearts
Where the collection was cultivated
Anthony's baby died after living for two hours
He overheard the doctor mumble that
The baby was better off
Unfold the stories
Straighten out the creases
I asked them to retell their stories
Should they be retold
Should an ending be invented
Beginnings reinvented
Javon started popping pills when he was twelve
Kevin's mother left him standing on the side of the road
When he was five
I collect the stories faster than I can comprehend them
Unfold them
I began to dream dreams for them
Imagine I can heal them
By placing my collection between clean sheets
Chisel away jagged edges
With the sharp edge of my pen
Lead poisoning
The definitive ending
Tie decided to get her ged
And go to community college
She asked me to fill out her fafsa forms
Marcus has a tear tatted on his cheek bone
He says he's tired of the streets
Monika used to be a prostitute
She said that one day
She wants an all white wedding
I lay their stories between straight lines
Clearing a path with my eraser
Clear away the debris left behind
I started this collection a long time ago
I keep it in a box
When the box overflows
I put my collection between clean sheets
Along straight lines
And then I close the book