& i can’t help but feel stupid for talking tearfully into thin air
but i continue yasmeen, there has to be some way i can help
& her voice takes on a stubborn knot i can almost picture
the way she shakes her head the new expressions
she would make of our familiar features nima, listen to me.
i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know what it all means.
i don’t know how to change anything & i don’t know anything that
matters except that i can help you get home.
i’ve never wanted to do anything good before, really,
but you’re good & you’re kind & you’re so full of love
my face gets hot as she says this shut up & let me finish,
i mean it even after i literally tried to kill you, you didn’t
think twice about saving me you learned this huge thing about
your dad & instead of knocking a hookah over onto his stupid lap,
your first thought was about helping your mother
& i don’t know, it taught me something so anyway
could you just shut up for a second & let me do my good thing?
& as she mentions baba & the cafe the idea slams into me
yasmeen, what if we find you a life you don’t have to steal?
she’s silent for a second & i take this as permission
to keep going & hope it doesn’t instead mean
she’s gone again yasmeen? i’m here.
what do you mean a life i don’t have to steal?
it might not work but we have to try. but is there a way for you
to be less invisible? i can’t concentrate when i keep thinking
you’ve disappeared & as she flickers back into my sight
her face is once again my face
but rendered in gray scale like an old photograph
The Plan
yasmeen stumbles along beside me
blurred again around the edges
her fingers going increasingly transparent
where are we going? & how do you know this
is going to work? & also while we’re here could you not
say things like ‘a life you don’t have to steal’ like you think
you’re better than me? i look over warily but she’s smiling
playful & i join her i’m not saying i’m better but look
you’re the one who called me ‘full of love’ & i can tell
i’ve embarrassed her i steel myself for another fight
until just in time the cafe looms again
before us not yet emptied for the night
The Cafe
we slip inside unseen & weave between
the tables yasmeen opens her mouth
to protest & i shush her striding back
toward the table where my father sits
with his friend with a pang i look away
from him planning his departure & i turn
to yasmeen remember what his friend was saying
before they started planning the big escape?
he & his wife want a child & the child won’t appear
is that enough possibility for you?
the plan dawns solidly on her restored face reanimating
with its new mission the man rises from the table
& drains his glass shrugs into his jacket
& claps my father on the shoulder
before slouching toward the door
i pull yasmeen into a hug tears pricking in my throat
go with him go get born go get a body
& before she can speak
i’ve pushed her out the door behind him
Yasmeen
i stride triumphant back toward
my grandmother’s house glowing with
the victory of hopefully saving yasmeen
no longer my sister never actually
my sister maybe never to be seen
again but alive somewhere alongside me
our paths untangled & moving in tranquil parallel
i miss my strange almost-friend her strange
& supernatural company but i hope i’ve saved her
& now i need to find a way to make my name my own
Leaving
i pass through the gate into the garden
& feel my stomach knotting tightly when
i realize i never asked yasmeen how
a plan as if summoned my mother emerges
my father close behind her his face
tight & expressionless as she reaches for his hand & says
i missed you today i hope the cinema will cheer you up
& for lack of a better idea
when she passes me i lean in & hiss into
her ear don’t trust him he’s going
to leave you & step back as she startles
& gazes frantically about to find of course
nothing & she climbs looking troubled
into the car
Breaking
i watch them argue through the window
her face shining with tears his knuckles
sharp as he grips the steering wheel
he does not look at her & as she motions
to her stomach with a plea he strikes
the dashboard says something curt
& cutting & i watch her mouth open
then close she lowers her head
& the tears pour silently into her lap
The Officers
before she can unlock the door to exit
a white pickup truck piled high
with young men in fatigues screeches
to a halt beside my parents’ little car
five officers debark & crowd toward
the window on my father’s side one knocks
maliciously on the glass & leans down
grinning when the window lowers & they all
see the beautiful girl in the passenger seat
who is this woman? they call into the window
& my father collecting himself replies
she is my wife no way, so young another
officer mocks we’d like to ask her a few
questions licking his chops like a wolf
my father begins to ease the window back up
until one of the men blocks it with the butt
of his rifle snarls we want to ask her
some questions then give us the girl & you
can leave & it all goes still & silent
as i remember my mother’s story they shot him
& i lift a large rock from the others strewn on the road
& aim it hard into the knot of men they scatter
& peer into the dark the car has not moved so i heave
another rock & narrowly miss an officer’s face
they draw their guns & begin to shoot i seize up in fear
until i see every bullet passing through me like air
& lodging into tree trunks parked cars clanging
into the tin gates of houses & in the clamor my father
slams his foot down on the car’s accelerator & speeds off
the rifle stuck & rattling against the window its officer
jogging along with it until he loses his footing
& falls into the street & my father does not die
Leaving
when the road is emptied & quiet the car
inches slowly back toward the house m
y father
helping my shaking mother through the gate & into
the courtyard where they cling to each other
in a long embrace until her sobs have quieted
stay she pleads or let me come with you
what happened to us? we love each other
you love me stay & he will not look at her
instead just shakes his head & leaves her
frozen in the courtyard as he strides into the house
Gone
i stand rooted with my mother in the courtyard
as she is racked by new tears & i also
can’t believe that he’s gone i thought i’d helped
i thought i’d fixed it our broken history full
of loss full of people & places once loved
& now simply gone i thought i’d stolen one back
to our side reclaimed one of our losses
from history’s sharper teeth from time’s gaping mouth
but i was wrong he was never meant to be ours my father
he was always meant to be gone it was always bigger
than anything my small tampering could change
& my mother & i were always meant to belong
to no one but each other
Left Behind
my mother is crumpled in her bed the pillow
on my father’s side undisturbed & smooth
his few clothes & books & records tossed into
the little car & gone no one to rub her back
& wipe her face as she convulsed all night with grief
hours pass & the afternoon fills the room with slants
of yellow light a small knock goes unanswered
then another & finally khaltu hala slips quietly
into the room sits sad & quiet at the edge of the bed
considering the hurt radiating from my mother’s curled form
they stay in silence for a long moment hala
places a palm on my mother’s searing forehead & tears
start pouring down the sides of my mother’s upturned face
pooling in her ears down her neck
by sunset khaltu hala convinces her to sit up
& sip water feeds her pieces of cut fruit & listens
humming in sympathy as my mother tells her tale
& by the end her face is creased with worry as my mother
says quietly i can’t raise his child alone all she
will do is remind me of him i have to give her away
& my stomach aches into a knot & i wonder
if i’ve made everything worse
twilight darkens the room & hala rises to leave
mama is sending me away to america
i have to go home to pack & listen my mother
raises her eyes to hala without speaking aisha, come with me
i won’t leave you here alone & i’ll be so alone without you
let’s go & start over away from everything that hurt us
The Baby
when hala is gone i take her seat at my mother’s bedside
& pass hands she cannot see across her face
over her hair
she stiffens looks wildly around the room cries out
in the wrong direction who is that? who’s there?
it feels wrong to scare her but i need to change her mind
mama i plead it’s me your daughter it’s me
& i call to her my name i’m your daughter
i need you we have a whole life together together
you’re all i need not him you’re all i need please
& my mother slows her frantic search around the room
& looks awed down at her stomach touches it
reverently & in the quiet wraps her voice around
my name
nima repeats it like a prayer nima nima
my saving grace & as she says my name a chasm
opens where once lay my father’s abandoned pillow
colors swirling as if in water before settling
into a scene i peer into the opening & see the bathroom
of our apartment water running into the tub about
to overflow i look back at my mother hurt but surviving
cradling her belly crooning my name to herself nima
The Portal
the gap in this world is pulling me toward it
like a current inside it the bathtub has begun
to overflow glistening onto the tile
& i don’t know if i’m ready to leave i have
so much left to do to see i have to study
my grandmother’s long-lost face learn the lives
of all those i didn’t know before their great losses
the men in the band i want to know what happens
to haitham’s father if he is ever seen again
i want to know why they all left & undo all the damage
undo the wars the hunger the kidnapped women
& jailed men returning months later looking hollowed out
hair shorn close against their skulls i want to fix it all
i want to help in this world where i don’t feel so helpless
so hunted where i don’t have to watch haitham’s
broken face without knowing if he’s still alive
behind it where my arabic flows easily
from my throat & the athan rings out five times
a day from the minarets in a voice husky with magic
i want to eat guava & skip stones into the stinking river
i want to watch my mother’s youth her dancer’s
walk her life vibrant with friendship & parties
styled like a film star in her yellow dress not tired
not at work & instead laughing dancing
clapping along to all the songs she loves her unbroken
country pulled warm around her & i fight hard
against the portal’s pull i reach to grip a bedpost
& my hands move clean through it like it’s water
i grab at everything around me as it dissolves back
to history my feet now submerged to the ankle
in the chasm i make one final
reach for my mother’s frozen arm & it blurs away
the portal moving up my legs to swallow me whole
The Portal
the portal is uncomfortably hot pulls me by its current
toward the other side & all around me
swirling like autumn leaves are hundreds
of photographs i’ve never seen
arriving to paper the walls of the tunnel
in one my mother pregnant at the airport
smiling hugely into her new life in another
my mother cradles a tiny baby in awe
one taken the winter when i first befriended haitham
when my mother bought me a new coat & shivered
every day in her layers of sweaters my mother
folding me tiny paper boats to float in the bathtub
my mother demonstrating a movement to a group of girls
twisting to mirror it my mother smiling broadly
beneath a sign that reads traditional dance classes by aisha
my mother in a newspaper clipping whose caption reads
founder of local dance troupe banat al-nima describes dance
as her connection to a lost home & in every photo
my hand is clutched tight in hers or around her leg
or tugging on her hem in every photo we are together
not a single one where either one of us is alone & in a rush
of warm air the portal deposits me feetfirst & fully clothed
into the bathtub splashing water over the sides
my mother knocking frantically outside the bathroom door
Home
i call to her & i hear her voice weighted with relief a sob
catching in her throat you’re here you’re here
i thought i’d lost you where have you been all day?
& i heave myself out of the tub to unlock the door
dripping a trail of bathwater behind me
my mother pulls me to her my wet clothes soaking hers
her tears spilling into my hair & the words pour out
in both languages from my mouth i’m sorry i’m sorry
you’re all the family i need you’re all the parent i need
i’m sorry thank you for making us this life from nothing
thank you for choosing me i’m sorry i choose you too
i choose you you’re all i need you’re all of it
& we stand like this clasped & sobbing
until i start to shiver in my still-drenched clothes
she wraps me in a towel sends me
to my room to change
The Photographs
& in the apartment outside all but one of the photographs
of my father have disappeared replaced instead by the ones
from the portal the one with me as a newborn
framed in the living room
the one at the airport taped to the mirror
of my mother’s dresser
in the one on the coffee table we perch
by a bathtub crowded with paper boats
& in the absence of his face i finally pay attention
to the others all over the apartment
that have been there all along
my grandmother my mother surrounded
by friends & smiling enormously into the camera
my mother grinning beside khaltu hala
my mother holding a bouquet of flowers
surrounded by girls in dancers’ clothes
what is newest is a poster advertising