I WISH

I’m quiet

during today’s lesson

with Old Anwar.

I want to tell him

learning letters

and words

pleases me.

I want to tell him

I’m thankful.

I want to tell Old Anwar

that he’s so kind,

so good.

I want to tell him,

too, my wish.

I know they are trying

to make a school here at Kalma,

but it will be a rice-bag shack

filled with Sudanese flowers.

I wish

I could have lessons

in a real school,

with other girls,

with Halima.

And books

and a blackboard,

and laughing,

and many

students,

chanting,

singing,

trapping

funny-bug alphabet letters

that flit on that blackboard.

After everything he’s done to teach me to read,

I can tell none of this to Old Anwar.