MUSLIM SCHOOLGIRLS ON THE TRAIN
The train is filled with girls
whose hair is hid in scarves.
The girls smile easily, their round faces
young though it is autumn.
Ahead, huddling over a screen, two girls’ covered heads
are as close to each other as it is possible to be.
Their eyes are dark and bright.
Their scarves, too, are dark and bright.
Their eyebrows are bright and dark somehow.
Outside, the scarves of the trees are red and yellow.
America whispers its greatness to me.
I do not need to see their hair
to know if they are beautiful.
I do not need to see their hair.