Skype Calls

Late nights or early mornings

when Nana and Nana Abu call

when Asna calls

Boop Boop Boop!

Boop Boop Boop!

Happy sounds.

Even though the screen is small,

the house becomes a

home

full of laughter

and loud voices.

But when we say bye,

our house becomes

too quiet

too far

a house that is

7,995 miles away

to be exact.

Walking to the Rec Center

On the walking path

golf carts speed by,

dogs pull people,

and bikers whiz by.

We hear

Hey y’all

How are you?

Hi

Owais and I

give each other a look

Who are these people?

Why are they saying hello?

People here must be really friendly

we think,

but then

Why don’t I have

a friend at school?

Rec Center

The water is bright.

The water is blue.

It says

I am here for you.

Oh Water,

do you know

that you are my only friend?

The water scoops me into a hug,

laughter bubbles at me,

and floats me gently up high.

In the water, I’m the meaning

of my name—

Light.

Cold

Even though it’s hot outside,

I hate

feeling the horrid cold

snaking into a ball

in the pit of my stomach

at school, especially at lunchtime.

But when the weather changes

one ordinary night,

I wake up

cold inside

and freezing outside,

and it’s brutal.

I wear sweater upon sweater

5 total

just to feel warm

when I wait for the

bus.

Let’s go buy you a proper winter jacket,

Baba says,

but still

it is not strong enough

to keep out the cold.

Karachi

Back home

the weather is

hot hot hot.

But in the evenings

when the sun gets sleepy

it gets cooler

balmy

and

breezy.

A tropical hug

before bed.

American Winter

Winter:

snips

cuts

the tips

of my fingers.

I am not made

for this weather.

I am not made

for this country.

Baba’s Patience

We have a fireplace

that we are still learning—

a button to press

a switch to pull

to make a fire.

By the hungry orange licks,

Baba mends kites

and waits for

an invitation from the sky.

Birds

In Pakistan:

the birds are loud

morning

noon

night.

Here:

the birds are loud

only in the morning

only at sunset.

Here I am loud:

only in the morning

before school

only in the afternoon

after school.

After School

At the dining table

I find my voice.

With a few pencil strokes

I doodle America

away

by drawing the Karachi beach.

Angry wave

upon

angry wave.

We talk about

Nana and Nana Abu and Dadi and Asna

back home

and the world feels

smaller.

Happier.

I push away the

school day

flip my apple

upside down,

biting into

the red underbelly

creating a flower-shaped pattern.

Then pray namaz,

then homework,

then finally,

it’s time to swim.

In the pool

we dive

low.

We float high.

On the surface,

eyes closed,

I float my worries away.

Bright-Yellow Flyer

I see it

at the Rec Center