her black hijab is laced in gold trim
black leather boots two-inch heels gold buckles
I help her edit a descriptive essay about a home
her family rented for many years in Iraq
my birth house my birth house my birth house
we discuss repetition choose carefully
my brothers my brothers all killed
I sigh softly continue professionally
postpone empathy for the drive home
my mother planted jasmine in the yard
the smell filled our house like fairy kisses
does she know jasmine symbolizes love
in some cultures represents good luck
my mother always cooked outside until my father
built her a clay oven so she could cook inside
at night we told jokes and counted stars
on the roof where we slept many nights
Zaynab reads aloud to check her verb tense
voice as maternal as her rings are gold
in 2017 we returned to my birth house to visit
but a lady turned it into a mosque I was sad
I hoped to return one day to live in it again
we learned that everything changes even people
but not sunlight that used to fill our living room
my birth house stands forever in my heart
it has been nearly an hour she thanks me
smiles goodbye over her shoulder
I imagine her on the big screen at Sundance
another student enters Vera Bradley backpack
half-empty café mocha same assignment
my homeland my homeland my homeland
