Ajanib
Illustration by Reem.
She snapped like sunflower seeds cracked between teeth
as wide as her frown when she yelled at me for showing off
my English. This was the first time I wished I stayed home.
I wished she knew how difficult it was to speak, but I couldn’t
decide which language to answer with, and she was waiting.
I nodded, a stranger taught me a lesson. For speaking my first
language, I was lying. I was supposed to train my mind to think
in Arabic so when I spoke, the words were without pause.
I wasn’t supposed to pry open seeds with my fingers. My teeth
should have been strong enough, my cuticles shouldn’t have bled
and stung my skin with salt, and I should be calling them bizr, not seeds.
I should know when it’s the right time to speak, but I would just be
wrong. I don’t know why she yelled at me in English. ◆
Rasha Alkhateeb is a Palestinian-American poet and graduate student at The University of Baltimore’s MFA in Creative Writing & Publishing Arts program.