Safia Elhillo 
i ride an uber spilling the last of the day’s ginger light
driver handsome enough to pull listening sounds as he chats

our talk is casual at its center
but at the edges i taste an old brittleness
memory of something burnt

he circles his mouth to an electronic cigarette
& its vapor braids into the earth & vinegar smell of sweat

you are muslim he tells me
not a question& i nod
smile at his smoke-dark eyes in the mirror

i count the prayer beads
strung in a necklace from his rearview

ninety-nine & perfect
glossy & unworn

mine are sandalwood
& leave their perfume
when cabling through my fingers

drink? smoke?
he demands an inventory of my wickedness
in the way men of my faith think me immediately theirs
daughter & sister & wife
always a test & never asking my name

in the rippling mirror
my head uncovered
extra button undone from my shirt
i know this exchange & its right answers
a blink & head shaken no

he squints his endless eyes
at a red light he turns
counts what he sees in my face

& the light drips in to share our ride
new vermillion along our bodies

i blink again & measure his disbelief
i am tired in the new dark
& ready to confirm whatever he decides i am

for a moment of quiet
moment to rest

my loosened hair smells of coal
floats over the backseat like smoke
from the book GIRLS THAT NEVER DIE / Penguin Random House  
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"Kurdish Translation with Farangis Ghaderi"

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"Poetry by living poets reminds us that we live in a world shared by others in real time, and that especially matters during liminal periods marked by uncertainty and isolation. I’m inspired by people—JDC scholars, my community college students, women and children living in shelters— who navigate these waters—however they can—and (to borrow from the great Lucille Clifton) manage to 'sail through this to that'."
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