going to be alone
i mourn her as i’ve come to know her always tired
unpinning her scarf after a long day at work to sleep alone
& wake up alone & do all of it over again
i turn to yasmeen is this why i was sent here?
to find out he never wanted me? to find out he was never
going to be there even if he’d lived? & again
a pang for my mother who i’ve spent my whole life
thinking of as half of an incomplete whole as my other
parent instead of my only yasmeen still has not spoken
so i continue i think i’m supposed to see this
to know that mama was always going to be all i had
to know that mama was always enough i feel the depth
& shape of my love for my mother in a wash of tears
& i need to see her again even this version
who is not yet mine
The Game
together yasmeen & i return to the house to find aisha
in the small living room carefully peeling a grapefruit
its bright smell filling the air she is draped across
a woven bed arranged with others around the room
a few mismatched chairs pulled in from other rooms
of the house for her gathering of friends
lazy hum of the ceiling fan above flies orbiting
like little moons the room smells sweetly of incense
& behind it the sharper scent of new paint a bowl of dates
is passed around each one wrinkled & leathery
in its caramel sweetness i take in the carved wooden
shutters ghostly light almost bursting behind them
my grandmother bustles about the younger women
soft flesh of her full upper arms hair oiled & brushed
to a shining ripple a fat braid coiled around each ear
henna black on her fingers & toes
henna a crimson highlight in her hair reddest
at the neat parting & two long scars burned ceremonially
down each of her cheeks an adornment from
a forgotten time
as we approach i hear my mother musing to khaltu hala
i love the idea of naming her nima but ahmed loves
the name yasmeen & you know it’s my favorite flower
it’ll remind me of mama’s garden mama likes it too
says a daughter is an apple in her father’s eye
& a flower in her mother’s hair she laughs
& shakes her head & i go warm at the thought
of my name as mama’s first choice
yasmeen is my father’s daughter the father
i never needed
khaltu amal though not the one being spoken to
pipes up yasmeen is the prettier name, aisha, no question
& khaltu hala rolls her eyes her dislike for amal flavoring
the air around them & if only to be contrary
she shoots back there’s a guava tree in the garden too
& i don’t hear you trying to name the baby jawaafa
or after the doum tree or the lemon tree i think nima
has more character she stares at amal
as she pronounces this last word
someone produces a deck of cards why don’t we make
a game of it? & with a smirk amal takes the cards
& starts to shuffle if i win a round, that’s one point for yasmeen
you win a round & it’s a point for nima my mother is quiet
at first wary then her face clears & she claps her hands
it’ll be fun! best three out of five? but just for fun, okay?
i turn to catch yasmeen’s eye but her face is stricken
i reach to touch her shoulder & she shrugs my hand away
& i am stung by her small rejection as the game begins
they’re playing concan with speed & concentration
i’ve never seen not the clumsy & laughing way haitham & i
play it with mama fatheya who cheats shamelessly
gets up in the middle of the game to make tea
& loses half her cards in the couch cushions
amal’s jaw is set hala’s brow is furrowed
they play entirely in silence & with a grin amal sets down
a winning hand & hala makes a frustrated noise
from the back of her throat as amal caws
one point for yasmeen! & i feel that old hum in my body
yasmeen gasps & i follow her pointing hand
down to my feet except my feet are not there
& fear slices through me but before i can do anything
hala is shuffling the cards again
& the hum leaves my body my feet flicker back into place
as they begin the next round which hala wins
in just a few brutal moves slaps down her cards
& calls out nima! & yasmeen’s arm is instantly gone
dread settles onto her face until the cards are shuffled again
& her arm blurs back into sight
the next round is longer tense & finally
with a grunt hala wins again yasmeen’s body
dissolving from the waist down fearful tears pooling
in her eyes & remaining there even as the cards
are once again shuffled & her legs are restored
when amal wins the fourth round & i feel the ominous hum
in my body again i cast about in panic for a way
to stop the game i reach for the cards but have
no hands to grab them with & in a final surge
of desperation i aim my foot at the tea set
arranged beside the group mint leaves steeping
in a beautiful ornate ceramic pot & kick the entire tray over
onto the cards boiling tea splashing into khaltu amal’s lap
her howl of pain the game forgotten
as the women scramble to their feet
what have you done? yasmeen hisses jogging
to catch up as i stride toward the gate
i feel unsettled & afraid something nagging at me
that i can’t name & i need somewhere quiet to think
Quiet
yasmeen pulls me by the hand before the sob escapes
my throat & leads me outside into the blazing day
& for a moment the noise washes over me
muffling the feeling
cars clatter by in a honking of horns & cough of exhaust
sharing the street with bleating animals pedestrians
crossing without looking to either side escaping narrowly
with their lives children crowd the car windows hawking
bags of peanuts sweet ropes of creamy white jasmine
& an old man whizzes past on a bicycle
barely missing yasmeen
who once again tugs at my hand if we don’t move out
of the way we’re going to get flattened
& it’s true that everything feels too loud too bright
i just need a quiet place to think
i call to yasmeen over the commotion i need a quiet place
to think & yasmeen walks us in the direction of the river
to the skeleton of an unfinished building
a monster of gray concrete
its windows without glass like sockets missing their eyes
on a raised bit of land flush against the river its brilliant blue wait i hesitate i didn’t mean
, like,
abandoned-building quiet
don’t be stupid she replies & she’s pulling me along again
into the building up one crumbling set of stairs yasmeen,
where are we going? i should probably tell you now that i don’t
love heights as we climb another set of stairs hold on,
would you stop for a second? shouldn’t we talk about what
just happened? without turning she calls back
here’s this whole country we never got to see don’t you want to see everything? i feel the sweat prickling in my armpits
i can already see everything through this window
why don’t we just stop here?
& she shakes her head the roof i want to see everything
A Country
i stumble coughing behind her onto the roof & before
i can slow my breath i feel it catch again in my throat
as i look out & see it the whole city the desert just beyond it
our whole country panoramic before us all the noise
softened by distance
i can just make out the sounds coming from a nearby minaret
a full-throated call to prayer below us the world is rendered
in every variation of brown sudden shocks of other
colors bougainvillea planted everywhere glossy green
of palm leaves & as the sun begins to set the colors seem
almost painted almost liquid true pink true orange
gold its magentas & oranges like fruit
i long to touch it to my lips
yasmeen & i are silent surrounded by what could
have been ours the street below wafting its perfumes
of car exhaust of corn & peanuts roasting
that ever-shifting smell of smoke
& for a moment i can forget my fear the memory
of my vanishing body how easily my name
could have been taken
instead i take in the colors the smells blue & gold
& unnamed sepia tones around us streets bustling
with my people with my family yasmeen beside me
squeezing my hand
Yasmeen
as the panic from the game leaves my body
i remember with a jolt why we’d gone back to the house
yasmeen, we have to tell mama that baba is leaving her
you don’t understand what it’s like her whole life
is like a shrine to him she has to know what he
was really like i turn to her wait, but in your life
they’re together, right? what’s he like? what changed?
her face takes on a hunted look & she will not meet my eyes
i feel desperate why aren’t you answering me? yes or no?
are they together? we need a plan
maybe i could write her a letter
or whisper to her in her sleep or & yasmeen shakes
her head we’re not really here, remember? i already
told you, they can’t see us they can’t hear us either
& i do remember yasmeen telling me at the party
we’re only visitors, you understand? we’re not part
of this part of time & i want to know why she knows
all this & i don’t yasmeen, what are you not telling me?
how do you know all this? & how come i don’t?
& the hunted look returns to her face i’ve caught her
in some kind of lie & i feel betrayed by everyone
my father making plans to make a life without me & now
this girl i’ve grown secretly to think of as my sister this girl
who brought me here i remember her leading me
through that day that already feels so far away
to the diner to the airport into the scene
of the photograph into this world
yasmeen, what are we doing here?
Half Possible
yasmeen sets her mouth in a hard line & just as i think
she isn’t going to tell me she begins there is only meant
to be one of us & something tightens in my stomach
what do you mean? she takes a step closer
you just saw it for yourself there is no stupid parallel universe
our mother has one daughter & that daughter has one name
my stomach begins to twist itself into a knot as i think
back on her flimsy answers to every question
about her life now so obviously a lie always obviously
a lie that i was too hungry for her sisterhood to notice
distracted by the ways she’d turn the questioning on me
& make me feel interesting intoxicating me
with her unflinching attention but now
her words come flooding fueled by a new anger
rippling beneath the surface twisting our features
in her face we’re here because she’s going to decide
what to name the child it could have been any name
but the way the history worked out the choices come down
to nima & yasmeen you or me if she chooses yours
you go back to everything & if she chooses mine
your life becomes mine & you become like me
& she takes another step toward me i start to step back
& the wind circles us carrying with it the smell of the river
the water just below just behind me
yasmeen, what do you mean like you? what are you?
& something warps in her face
the ghost trapped between worlds the other fading
possibility that’s why you’d go transparent every time
here i feel a prickle of fear crawl up my neck
right now you’re only half possible & so am i
whoever’s name she chooses gets to be her daughter
& she’s too close to me now i look back nervous
yasmeen, this is really high can we talk about this downstairs?
& she looks like she is deciding something
a determined look settles onto her face our face
& she’s lunging toward me
pushing me off the roof’s concrete & into open air & as i fall
i scramble to grab her shirt pulling her behind me
A Single Possibility
we land with a hard smack into the sharp cold
of the river surrounded by floating trash submerged
in dirty water i struggle to keep my head
above the surface i kick my legs & pull my arms
my body heavy with soaked fabric yasmeen’s grip tight
on a handful of my hair
the waves which looked so gentle from the shore
splash up into my face fill my mouth & sting
my burning eyes they pull me to the surface
as yasmeen submerges me again desperation
& panic mingling in her face as she forces me back
under the water
& i am so afraid i am almost calm the thoughts
unspooling slowly before me i understand her plan
to make herself the only option eliminate the other
& even when she saved me from that man at the hotel
it wasn’t to save me it was to bring me here
she brought me here to leave me here
to return to my life as herself
she isn’t my sister we are opposite ends of a single
possibility an only child forming in
our mother’s belly waiting to be shaped by a name
once & for all whoever is chosen lives & whoever
is not is gone forever resolved by history
& so yasmeen of course yasmeen is trying to kill me
i scrabble at her hands now clamped around
my neck a knot gnarled & thick & i feel panic
fluttering the blood away from my fumbling fingers
i claw at her treading water until i can no longer feel
my legs i cannot sink i cannot die & leave my life to her
i cannot leave my loves to her my mother haitham
my country frozen in photographs my tin box of longing
the songs i love the dance my cassettes all mine
not hers mine
& in a final surge i kick my legs & as i pull myself free
from her grasp her foot catches on something under
the surface & she is pulled backward into the depths
Yasmeen
i watch her face disappear under the water & it is my face
etched with the same panic i feel coursing through me
& it feels like i am watching myself drown & i know
i should just let her go let myself become the only possibility eliminate the other
but i can’t just leave her there leave the body
that is my body to die
& everything feels slowed down the moment broken
into a string of smaller moments a tire floats past
& i lunge for it with one hand my other hand
feeling around then reaching under the water
for her long braid of hair
i pull hard & her head breaches the surface
coughing arms flailing grabbing first at me
& then understanding that i am trying to help
reaching desperately for the tire my foot
she yells hoarsely it’s caught & through
the murk of water i can just make out the net
snarled around her ankle
& of course the only way to free her is to suck in a breath
& go underwater try to keep my eyes open
against the sting & fumble at the net worked into
a knot with no give & through it all trust that she will not