In which a Mother Discovers She is God, While a Child Discovers Baseball
And does not cup
her mouth in horror.
She knew all along
this sweet blasphemy
was coming. How else
can you explain that patience
and its imperfect holy.
And he asks himself again:
what am I doing in this shadow
of a country? Men in tight trousers
dart across a field, while he basks
in whatever sun Connecticut has to offer,
a crude joke of a Spring.
And she is relieved, for once.
And he forgets the rain falling on him passively.
And they will meet again,
in an empty airport
and remember
their skin.
Excavation of Hazem’s Mouth
hello again
fag mouth
pride hole
keeper of secrets
sometimes
releaser of dreams
have you come
to taunt me
tightfisted mouth
clenchedattheseams
alwaysreadyforafight mouth
gobacktowhereyoucamefrom mouth
didyourayrabfamilyteachyoutospeaklikethat mouth
fantasizedaboutfirebreathing mouth
where
is my epic now
shattered boys crouch between
these yellowed teeth
and i lick them all
between meals
ill come back
with a cigarette
tomorrow
and suffocate them
Hazem Fahmy is a poet and critic from Cairo. He is an Honors graduate of Wesleyan University’s College of Letters where he studied literature, philosophy, history and film. His poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming in Apogee, HEArt, Mizna, and The Offing. His performances have been featured on Button Poetry and Write About Now. His debut chapbook, Red//Jild//Prayer, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press this Fall. He is a poetry editor for Voicemail Poems and a contributing writer to Film Inquiry. In his spare time, Hazem writes about the Middle East and tries to come up with creative ways to mock Classicism. He makes videos occasionally.