anything for it to have been me instead i brought him here
so we could have a different kind of life & even here i couldn’t
keep him safe so what was all of it for? everything i lost
it was all so i could give him a different life what if i lose
him too? & here her face crumples her whole body
collapses into grief my mother gathers her in her arms
& rocks her like a baby & i wait for her to make
the empty comforting promise to say he’ll be okay
to say he’ll wake up i want to hear it too
but she will not lie to her sobbing friend instead she repeats
until it is almost a chant i know i know i know
Touched
it’s the last morning of my suspension & we are crowded
into the bus my mother & i
pointed back toward the hospital
her face is far away troubled we have not eaten
since the night before & i mean to leave her be
but i can’t hold all this myself mama silence
mama what is it? what will i do if he dies?
the bus jolts to a stop & a stranger a man is pushed
up against my mother her face changes & she snarls
don’t touch me don’t you dare touch me & turns away
ignoring his flustered apology she is silent a long time
then speaks without looking at me her eyes in some
faraway place that hurts her there were officers
they stopped us in our car & wanted to touch me
there were so many of them teeth shining in the dark
banging on the car windows with their guns your father
he would not unlock the doors
& here her eyes empty entirely
when he tried to drive us away they shot him
her eyes are large & tearless hands clutching her coat
against her shrunken body i cannot stand to hear the rest
of the story my eyes are hot & my whole body is ringing
& i can’t stand to be so near her open hurting pushed into
her perfumed side by the crowd
so i shove my way through
the sour crush of bodies & off the bus
my mother’s hoarse cry
my name ripping through the air
sealed in by the closing doors
Running
my mother is screaming something i cannot hear
i hesitate & look to her through the window of
the moving bus then turn & run down a block
crowded with pedestrians ducking & turning
& crossing busy streets i run until my lungs
are searing my heart hammering & swollen
i look up & find myself in an unfamiliar part
of the city & feel faint for want of water
just ahead a cluster of tents & clamoring
& music smells of charring meat & clapping
& laughter & bells for a moment i want
to go back to my mother to apologize
to sit with her by haitham’s bed & hold his hand
but my hunger heaves my tired body
toward the smell into the festival
wetting my chapped mouth
Street Fair
i wander through the maze of color & smell
a parade running like a vein through the middle
& all around i see booths draped in what looks
like every flag i think for a second to look
for mine & of course it is not there mine
not a culture exciting enough for a booth for a fair
only ever mentioned in a list of warnings on the news
at a stall draped in the same red white black green
as our flag i ask for food for water the seller
names a price i feel for my wallet & remember it
with a jolt sitting untouched on the kitchen counter
& my armpits go damp with fear in the autumn chill
i turn away & am pulled as if by water
into the current of dancers musicians horses
& the metallic trill of tambourines throbbing of drums
& i cannot see anything but the bright rustle of skirts
of belled ankles arms twisting up & heads
thrown back the crowd pressing in closer
& pulling me along my feet sometimes
not touching the ground
Houses
the parade releases me right as my lungs begin
to seize for air i gasp & stumble into a quiet street
bent over & coughing pulling the late autumn’s
clean cold into my throat in ragged gulps the minutes
pass & i heave myself upright & take in the block ahead
gilded with bright foliage scattering golden leaves
into the street & onto the row of long staircases
leading up to each high house each railing molded
in intricate patterns grapevines long-haired sirens
tiny metal flowers the light in each window warm
& thrumming with the satisfied lives inside
Trespassing
halfway down the block i hear the squeak
of an unlatched gate swaying in the stirring
breeze the leaves swirling upward in circles
from the pavement the windows of the house
above darkened & quiet
i have to keep moving to outrun this day
this week the sight of haitham’s split mouth
taped to its tube i push through the gate
& hear my heart pounding in my ears
muffling everything else i pause & my mother’s
animal cry don’t touch me they shot him
rips back into my thoughts another step forward
& it disappears the fleeting thought he’s dead
because of her drowned by a warm wash of guilt
another step & it goes silent i move unseeing this way
until i have turned from the side of the house
to its backyard & see the enormous swimming pool
stretched across its water warm & wafting steam
in little curls into the air
The Water
before i can talk myself out of what is definitely
a stupid idea i’ve undressed & lowered myself
into the water searching for something like
the echoing peace of the bathtub at home the pool
is colder than it looks & smells sharply of chlorine
i am not a good swimmer but i can keep myself
generally afloat & paddle a slow lap around the edge
then another another & finally sucking in
a mouthful of air i submerge my head
& force my eyes open against the sting
i blow a thick stream of bubbles into the blue quiet
& kick myself forward barely moving before
i have to come up again for air the world so loud
& violent in its color after the dark silence of the water
another intake of breath & i plunge again into
the quiet propel myself forward with my clumsy
kicks my graceless arms finding a strange music
in the water’s weight stretching forward then arcing
to my sides every movement a victory
of my inelegant body & the simple motion
soothes me the guarantee that if i only kick
my legs & pull with my arms my body will
drive forward every moment i raise my head
for air feels like an interruption i swim this way
until my limbs feel emptied of their bones
Caught
so tired i feel a little loosened
from my body i crumple by the edge
of the pool & shiver blotting myself
dry with the thick fleece of my sweatshirt
i pile my clothes back on my soaked hair
dripping a steady stream down the nape
of my neck the first actual fun i’ve managed
since fighting with haitham though even
thinking his name calls back the ache
& the tears grow hot in my chlorine-stung eyes
i stretch onto my back by the pool’s edge feeling
thoroughly sorry for myself falling again into wishing
for another self another life until the distant
squeak of the gate opening stills my whole
humming body into listening waiting to be caught
an older man hair graying around his ears
strides into the yard a tiny limp dragging
his left foot a beat behind the other & there is
no way he has not seen me he stops just short
of the pool’s edge & bends at the waist
peering into the shimmering water for anything
inside i wince at his right foot stepping
heavily on the ends of my drenched hair
& look guiltily up into his face his gray eyes
sliding unfocused across then past
my splayed body he shrugs blows into
his thick hands for warmth & makes his way
slowly back into the house i sit up & glance
down at my body & my body is not there
The Diner
i pull myself up from the tiled edge of the pool
& hurry out into the hushed street i watch myself
flicker in & out before finally going solid i think
i have maybe just saved my own life by being
unnoticeable i want to figure out what
makes me disappear what brings me back
i comb through my memories of disappearing
in the bathtub at school now at the edge
of a stranger’s swimming pool each time i’d been feeling
that i didn’t want to be myself wishing for a different life
& the thought clicks loudly into place i can disappear
by dwelling on the wish that i was not here
that yasmeen had been born instead
by now my hunger is a sharp pang heightened
by swimming & running my eyes go in & out of focus
& when they blur over i see new movement
figures disappearing when i blink & look again
strange birds delicate & barely formed
twisting translucent through the air
solemn cats assembling silently up each staircase
covered in a layer of mist
another blink & they’ve cleared away all except
the slightest outline of a girl gliding halfway up
the block away from me yasmeen she’s come
back i hurry along behind her resisting
the urge to call out in case she flickers away
& leaves me behind she turns into another quiet street
& melts into the closed door of a small diner i push
the door open & follow & in the clatter of dishes
& talk i know she’s left me again i have no money
& no plan & am governed now only by my hunger
so i tremble into a vinyl booth & ask the cheerful
lipsticked waitress for a cheeseburger fries
a strawberry milkshake mozzarella sticks a slice
of apple pie i down my first glass of water
in two gulps & ask for another & when the food arrives
crowded onto my small table i eat steadily without
coming up for air until i am so full i feel a little sick
The Stranger
now that i’ve eaten & can think clearly i understand
how much trouble i am about to get into i maybe
could have wheedled a free plate of fries some water
from the kind waitress with my sad story
& empty pockets but how to ask for an entire feast
after i’ve already eaten it
to buy myself some time i ask for the menu again
pretend to study it while she clears my round
of greasy plates
my heart is knocking loudly around my body & any
minute now i am going to cry i close my eyes
& before i can open them a man’s voice
so close he must be at my table asks me if i am all right
my eyes spring open & he is sitting across from me
his eyes are large & pouched sad but not unkind
their sharp blue not unlike pool water stark in their
dim & bloodshot whites he’s the age i imagine
my father to be though his gray-brown mustache
is wispy & his beard missing in patches like
the new growths of the boys at my school but his
suit looks expensive his fingernails short & clean
& polished & when the waitress approaches
he hands her two bills from a roll he produces & bares
his gray teeth in a smile that does not quite reach his eyes
that will be all for my niece & just a coffee for me cream
& three sugars thanks she leaves
& he turns the gray smile to me asks again
if i’m okay & do i need help getting home
i close my eyes again mama’s voice my whole life
never go anywhere alone with a man not even
the next room not even an uncle or cousin not even
& in a prickle of tears i realize why & swat her voice
from my head before the first drop falls i am so tired
i just want to go home i just want
i am so full of wanting so much of it for what i cannot
change again haitham’s broken face
again my mother’s shriek they shot him i am so tired
of everything happening to me at once he seems
nice enough & i want so badly
to go home i open my eyes & nod
The Stranger
i fumble with my seat belt while the engine wheezes
awake i’ve given him my address i’m so tired
& just want to go home his car is too hot
& smells like old meat something sweetly rotting
i peel off my thick sweatshirt & fold it into my lap
he has not spoken & my skin prickles with his looking
at a red light he turns to me his teeth glinting wetly
in a smile & murmurs so quietly i can barely hear him
you have a beautiful neck & turns back to face
ahead when the light changes i feel
knotted & embarrassed by the compliment
& put my sweatshirt back on
the neighborhoods crawl past the windows of the car
not one of them mine or anything i recognize
after another turn the highway stretches endless before us
the sun setting in a riot of color & fire
i do not want to make him upset but i know now
>
that this is not the way home i wet my chapped lips
& squeak out a pitiful excuse me & he does not turn
i clear my throat & try it louder when he faces me
i speak very slowly to keep the tremble in my voice
at bay excuse me, hi, if you’d like i can try & give you
directions? i don’t think this is, i mean, i’m not
sure but i don’t think this is the right way? & he smiles
kindly & says gently oh, of course, no, i know,
it’s just that you live a few towns over & before i can finish
exhaling in relief he continues so i thought we’d check into
a hotel & do the rest of the trip in the morning
& i feel like i’ve swallowed my own sinking heart
The Driveway
he steers the car into the circular driveway of a hotel
hands his keys to a young man dressed in dark blue velvet
& motions me in through the revolving door tells me
to hang back while he handles the room
& when he’s gone i look frantically around for help
but everywhere i look i see men & more men & i cannot
risk one worse than the one that brought me
i feel a hand on my arm my body already on high alert
as i turn ready to use my teeth my nails the hand
is not quite solid not quite warm humming
beneath the surface with something i can’t name
& before i can speak she begins
& the voice in her mouth is like mine the hand
on my arm exactly like mine you have to go now
get on that bus & all my questions root me
to the spot her eyes are large & urgent
are my eyes yasmeen more solid than i’ve ever
seen her motions again frantically & when i still
do not move she turns hurries down
the driveway & climbs into a small bus marked
AIRPORT SHUTTLE & in an instant i am unfrozen
adrenaline coursing through my shaking limbs as i move
to follow her i slip quietly
Home Is Not a Country Page 6
