Write about writing in a tongue not yours, my friend advises.
What does he know about this circular cylindrical psychedelic swirl of words?
The constant shifting between languages
Crossing haphazardly from one threshold to another
In the span of a sentence?
This daily shrinking of a twenty-eight letter alphabet
Trading غين حاء عين ضاد for the Fourteenth Amendment
Dragging inshallah by the vowels from right to left.
English no longer my second language
Nor Arabic my first.
Who am I and what am I and how am I but a hollowed-up formation
Homing in on scraps
Scurrying for breadcrumbs
Before taking off in a startled huff
To settle in a place of fear
And call it home.