Three poems
from the unpublished poetry collection Years in Residual Memories
Nour Abuelreich
1978 Immigrant
Bright yellow arches draw you in
What could I get for you sir?
Two hours earlier, you stood in front of your mirror practicing
Sounding out bur-ger. The Gs are hard
You loosened your tongue on the G.
Coughed it out your throat instead. Bur-ger.
There is no mirror here, just you and the teenager.
Can I please get a bur-ger?
She types into her register.
Would you like anything else?
Fries. You want fries today.
Was it fry or fries?
Is there a singular for fries?
Who orders one fry?
Botato. I’ll take botato you repeated.
You mean fries sir?
Yes.
Any soda?
Yes, bebsi.
Pepsi, sir? Ashamed, you nod.
There is no letter ‘p’ in your language.
You spend the whole night in front of the mirror.
2005 Immigrant Children
I remember this year in
Glimpses of faded memories.
The large building.
The playground.
The blue-eyed school children.
Learning my name.
Learning the letter “A”.
Learning to say ‘Hello’.
The thickness of an unjustified accent,
coating my letters like honey.
2018 Americanization
My accent is scrubbed from my tongue.
I learn all the silent letters.
My outfits change.
They become American.
Jeans, a t-shirt, Nike’s
minimal make up, nothing flashy.
Starbucks 5 times a week.
Krispy Kreme occasionally.
A turkey at thanksgiving
with all the sides and pies.
A tri-tip for Christmas.
I don’t even celebrate Christ.
Bright yellow arches draw you in
What could I get for you sir?
Two hours earlier, you stood in front of your mirror practicing
Sounding out bur-ger. The Gs are hard
You loosened your tongue on the G.
Coughed it out your throat instead. Bur-ger.
There is no mirror here, just you and the teenager.
Can I please get a bur-ger?
She types into her register.
Would you like anything else?
Fries. You want fries today.
Was it fry or fries?
Is there a singular for fries?
Who orders one fry?
Botato. I’ll take botato you repeated.
You mean fries sir?
Yes.
Any soda?
Yes, bebsi.
Pepsi, sir? Ashamed, you nod.
There is no letter ‘p’ in your language.
You spend the whole night in front of the mirror.
2005 Immigrant Children
I remember this year in
Glimpses of faded memories.
The large building.
The playground.
The blue-eyed school children.
Learning my name.
Learning the letter “A”.
Learning to say ‘Hello’.
The thickness of an unjustified accent,
coating my letters like honey.
2018 Americanization
My accent is scrubbed from my tongue.
I learn all the silent letters.
My outfits change.
They become American.
Jeans, a t-shirt, Nike’s
minimal make up, nothing flashy.
Starbucks 5 times a week.
Krispy Kreme occasionally.
A turkey at thanksgiving
with all the sides and pies.
A tri-tip for Christmas.
I don’t even celebrate Christ.
Nour Abuelreich is a Palestinian writer who earned an MFA in fiction writing at Chapman University. She writes about social and moral injustices within communities that she’s resided on. She is focused on the Arab American diaspora that many young Arabs experience when they move abroad.
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