Kamala Khan (Ms. Marvel)
Ammi and Abu, and that brother of mine—
They don’t know who I am. Curfews & calls
to prayer, weekly lectures at the mosque,
but then, there’s also the smell of bacon
sandwiches at the Amreeki corner shop,
and the cell phone buzzing in my back pocket.
And then I changed. Like being me
wasn’t complicated enough. The first time
I turned, I turned blonde. Busty. White.
That’s not what I meant when I asked for ass-
kicking beauty. I thought I’d feel
strong, but nope. Just naked. Wrong.
I call myself
Dust. I settle over the city,
under tired wheels,
sandals, hooves, bare—
Wait on the streets
until you step out of the air-
You sit. You pour, and pour
white sugar into your tea.
Listen: the grains
against the gilded glass.
Listen: I collect
around your feet,
in the creases
of your tailored suit, fill
up the many small fists
of your lungs. Barely visible,
I block the gun’s trigger.
Mr. Frank, Biology
The male, he said, is striking,
The male is nature’s
masterpiece. The female
is muted in color, so she can
vanish. The male is what keeps
all species alive.
Now girls, watch. The male
gets what he wants.
It is a perfectly natural thing.