who have light skin

the color of milk

with a drop of tea,

medium skin

the color of milky tea,

and dark skin

the color of tea

without a drop of milk.

People who are all

looking around

hungry for family.

I am holding my sign

Welcome Dadi!

On purpose

I left out

Home

because America

is not a home

for Dadi.

When Zaidu Chacha

and the attendant

walks Dadi out,

we wave big.

But Dadi

sees us

has to be guided over

to us

and when she sees us

her arms pat

the bones in my back,

and I smile big

because she must

remember me,

but then she

asks my name.

Babysitting

One Friday a month,

my neighbor Ms. Grayson asks me to babysit

her kids.

For dinner,

I feed them

sticks of fish

trees of broccoli

valleys of chocolate mousse.

At bedtime,

I braid the sky

with my stories.

I blend

stories of land

stories of oceans

stories of Pakistan.

When Ms. Grayson returns,

my stories evaporate back into the sky,

but it’s okay because I get paid money.

Hardware Store—$14.99

In the aisle

next to food for cats

and food for dogs

I see the food that will make

Dadi happy—

food for birds.

In the area

at the back

that peeks outside

I use my babysitting money

to buy a pot of flowers

that will make

Dadi happy—

petunias.

Garden

On the grass that is

green

like the Pakistan flag

Dadi’s mind becomes

like a pointed pencil,

sharp,

as she scoops out

the birdseed

I bought for her.

Dadi’s hands

do not tremble.

Dadi’s hands

are full of

purpose.

Dadi holds in

a deep breath

full of hope

and longing

before letting out a laugh

that floats.

The cardinal comes

right before sunset,

a fluttering flash

of red wings.

Deadheading

Dadi’s voice is clear

as she pinches off

pouty pink petunias,

wilted blooms.

You need to get rid of

all the old

and dead flowers

to make space

for new ones.

Maybe I need to get rid

of all my old

and bad choices

to make space

for new ones?

Chess

My brother spends

too much time in his room

so I set up the chessboard

and challenge Owais.

Usually Owais wins,

but today looking at the pieces

his mouth goes into a yawn.

When I play Owais,

his mind is not on the perfect squares in front of us

but on the other shapes in his mind.

In chess,

my horse hops

my bishop bops

my queen glides everywhere.

Checkmate!

And even though I’m finally beating Owais in something,

it doesn’t really feel good.

Junaid

At the masjid

he is the one who makes the others invisible.

Everyone seems to light up

around Junaid,

even Owais.

In the parking lot

under the basketball hoop

Junaid dribbles neatly

jumps high

swishes the ball through the net.

Nothing about Junaid

is awkward.

He moves like water.

My eyes must be drinking

because when he pauses to look at me