is puffy

and discolored.

I feel so

so

so

alone.

Why did

I let him go?

Hospital

At the hospital

my parents will

demand

Who has done this?

Why did they do it?

But I will

just shrug.

The words

clogged in my throat.

Sorry

He cannot hear me.

At least I think he can’t . . .

I hold his hand,

I’m sorry

I didn’t warn you.

More sorry

than you can

imagine.

The sorry

loosens my tongue.

The sorry

teaches me that next time—

if there’s a next time—

I will know what to do.

I will know what to say.

I will

I will always

I will always say

I will always say something.

Fighter

When my brother wakes up,

his face is still a little colorful.

Owais, what happened?

Nurah, I told them

I’m not a fighter,

but they wouldn’t listen.

They wouldn’t listen . . .

Doesn’t he know

the day we came here

we were made into

fighters?

Home Visit

Coach Kelly

comes to our house

and words like

surveillance cameras

file a report

justice must be served

are written by Baba

on bright-yellow paper

served on the table

right next to chai

next to Owais’s

emergency room

discharge papers.

Words fill up

the paper.

For My Brother

Before I felt

bubbles of anger.

Now I feel a

Waterf

a

l

l

of regret.

For my brother,

I churn my apology into action.

I bring him steaming bowls of dal,

fresh stories of back home,

a pile of laundry

with socks matched

toe to toe.

I tell him he doesn’t look so bad,

wait for him to smile,

but he’s not ready yet.

Later

His face will become

the right color.

He will be fine.

Handsome again.

The two boys

will be reported

but they will come back

to the Rec Center

unfazed

and my brother

my brave

diving brother

will stay away from

the blue cocoon

of water.

Part Eight

In America

I will look

for my grandparents

by habit

even though I know

they are back home

in Pakistan.

I realize

when I am in

the checkout line

helping

my mother

(always helping)

bananas

eggs

cans of tomato sauce

(for curry)

that I don’t see

old people

here.

Where do they hide?

Here I see

young

and middle aged.

Only later when I join

Key Club

and have community service

I finally see

the old people

in nursing homes

rocking on chairs

staring into space

not being served

crispy samosas

not having their feet

massaged

not being visited.

Just staring.

Dadi

When Baba

says that Dadi is going to visit

to see a few doctors,

my heart lifts

to the top

of my short hair

I will see her soon.

But it drops again

to the bottoms

of my feet

when I remember that she

won’t remember

my name.

Airport

At the Atlanta

international terminal

anticipation bubbles

around me.

There are people