Who Do We Have?

I have Stahr

my mother has Penelope

Owais has Michael Lee

my father has the Breakfast Club.

Stamina

Is what you have

when you swim

back and forth

forth and back

easily without stopping.

Stamina is what I need

so I can swim

back and forth

forth and back

easily

without gasping

for air.

When Coach Kelly calls

Coffee break!

she looks right at me.

She sees me.

She throws her arms

wide

in the air.

You can only eat an elephant

(or a whale!)

one bite at a time . . . ,

she reassures me.

You can only win a race

one breath at a time.

I can do this.

One breath at a time.

Sunday School

Here,

at the masjid,

I wear Nana’s kurtas again

with piping,

3 buttons,

pockets even.

And instead of jeans,

tight denim that chokes my legs,

I wear my shalwars

soft and forgiving.

I remember the words of Nana,

When you wear hijab,

each step you take

it is as if God is smiling

upon you.

Today when I wear my hijab,

tightly wrapped,

shimmery light blue,

I can’t see my hair,

and even though my face

usually envies my hair,

today when I look

in the mirror,

I think—

Not bad.

Masjid Lobby

Where boys and girls

stand

and there is no

wall partition

like there is

when we pray,

I see Owais

and Junaid.

Although they are

arguing,

it is playful

and their features

are enhanced

instead of

distorted.

I stand by Owais,

waiting.

Have I ever been

this close to Junaid

before?

If he was like Aidan,

he would put out

his hand.

I am aware of

how I stand

how I blink

how I breathe.

The shape

my mouth makes.

He has a letter-C scar

on his chin.

How did he get it?

Nurah, I know he can play basketball,

but is he as good at swimming

as he says he is?

Junaid’s question

sprinkles the air.

WE both are, I say.

His eyes crinkle

into smiling

crescents.

You both are something else!

Owais smirks.

When Owais turns

to get water,

Junaid offers me

a smile,

just me,

while I tuck a smile

into my cheek.

Even though he can’t see

my hair

I feel prettier than I have

in a long time

and exactly where

I’m supposed to

be.

Final Art Project

Looking through

my portfolio,

Ms. White scans through

my latest

self-portrait,

my brown

look-at-me skin

shaded with pride—

my something unexpected

me in my aquamarine

silk hijab.

Ms. White’s lips dance

into a quirky smile.

Nurah, welcome to

my memory.

Final Swim Meet

Before the final swim meet,

I know what I need to do.

I walk into my brother’s room.

My Underwater Sibling.

Grab his trunks,

and YELL

with my voice,

the one that made teachers

move mefaraway

from Asna in class,

Enough is enough!

Fine he grumbles,

Fine he mutters,

Fine he smiles.

Coach Kelly’s Warm-Up

Tan muscular arms