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 centre 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