To the white male canvasser from Children's International who asked me out on a date cause was too cute not to and it looked like I had a kind soul,
my mother always tells me I should feel lucky
that she got out that she had me here
in this country with my new shoes
my sharp pencils
my clean water
my fresh everything
this year she packed one box and sent it to Guatemala
tried to stop the guilt from making its way up her throat
but she should know
she’s an immigrant the strongest things will always make their way through
Dear white male canvasser
I want to tell my mother that this country is full of white ponytailed motherfuckers like you colonizing the space between me and my bus stop
Dear white male canvasser when did helping children in need become catcalling Brown girls who cry about their minimum wage increase on the bus
Dear white male canvasser thank you for reminding me because I forgot
my body does not belong to me
my body is a sign a billboard that tells you that I must give you my time after I refuse you my money
Dear white male canvasser let me tell you about this type of rage
this type of rage pushes over a fridge with a picture of a hungry Guatemalan orphan on it
this type of rage is you scratching my back without asking
this type of rage is me scratching back
feeling blood on my hands
Dear white male canvasser my soul is not for you
it is full of too many women things
loud pots hot irons acidic nail polish removers the box my mother sends to her family
sewing needles a phone cord stretched from here to Guatemala
sharpened to a point coiling ready to kill a man
Dear white male canvasser
no thank you