Ajanib
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.