Afternoon Tea

I try to remember my friend Raahil

As he was before the war broke out—

When our parents said we shouldn’t

Be friends anymore. We used to meet

After school and drink tea like British

Men and laugh and make fun while

Secretly hating the stuff his Mom

Fixed for a snack. We used to meet

On winter weekends and he’d talk about

Muhammad, and I about Jesus, while

Secretly hating the way our parents

Made us believe. We used to meet

To play but our parents made us stop.

I wonder if he is okay, and if he still

Secretly hates the way, as do I, our

Families loved us.

Lunch

I try to forget about Maryam

And that time I mistakenly walked

In on her while she stepped out

Of the shower and grabbed her

Hijab in fright. I think of Ramadan

Instead, in August two years back,

When Raahil invited me for Hilal.

I thought it was a celebration—

His parents laughed when I asked

When we would eat. I did not know

What I now know—that some fast

For holy rites—but they explained

Spiritual hunger and how to feed it;

While they spoke, I hoped Maryam

Would not tell them that I saw her.

We gathered when the crescent

Moon rose, and my stomach growled,

Hungry for something I did not know.