She wants to brag to her new assisted-living friend. She, who loves me big like the sky, who tells me look up when I'm in need of a prayer. She can't know I'm lost & starless in Delhi where there's a cow at every turn. Where a girl knocks on my car window. Can I learn to carry bricks on my head? A bushel of hay? I count each day in sugar crystals & fennel seeds. Underwater in a pool, the only place I can breathe—the world is smaller than it is. She can't hear this city chanting its six million hymns far, too far, from the blue of home.