We leave for those who were trapped As the culture collapsed These identity tokens so that perhaps You remember that ideas were simple and eternal They're locked inside these mysterious crystals We the pregnant, the sick and ashamed We leave you these things, you remember our name A basket was hauled at the gate The mother put the baby in and then she would wait The questions were to be asked About the parentage, the lineage, and the immediate past She waited to hear if her baby would be Returned for disease or once be received We the pregnant, the sick and insane We leave you these things, you remember our name We leave three or four tarnished padlocks A playing card, the ace of hearts, a gold pocketwatch A piece of brass shaped like the moon A magnifying glass, a miniature spoon What were we thinking or hoping for When leaving such things at the hospital door? A fine piece of ribbon, a cruel separation A vague internation of a higher-born station Your mother was neither a saint nor a whore There's a constant reminder that you were born poor We leave for those who were trapped As the culture collapsed These identity tokens so that perhaps You remember that ideas were simple and eternal They're locked inside these mysterious crystals We the pregnant, the sick and insane We leave you these things, you remember our name