Three poems by Hakim Hasan: "The Fires Before Climate Change," "In Memory of The Sycamore Tree Outside My Window" and "Apocalypse For Hal 9000"
By Hakim Hasan
The Fires Before Climate Change
He died
last winter
in an arson-fire
(an amenity
at his apartment building)
carrying loneliness
and amnesia
in a cat carrier.
In Memory of The Sycamore Tree Outside My Window
I mourn
the corridor of sunlight
between your branches.
Wheezing winds carry your leaves
autopsied by caterpillars inching
on grass stuck to the backs of lovers.
Millipedes scurrying under sawdust
dreamed about the apocalypse of your hunters:
The deaths foretold.
The forest fires.
The blocks of auburn smog aging in the air.
Molten lava crackles—
kneading the soil
cooking the whereabouts of your dead.
Apocalypse For Hal 9000
We did not heed the sore throat of the wind
or constant crackling petticoat plumes of fire.
Who, what is left of who, stumbled past
FIND ME graffiti—
diagonally pecked on poisoned trees by birds
laying sideways on sidewalks
eyes flickering shut.
Hakim Hasan poetry has appeared in Tribes, Black Renaissance Noire, and Obsidian.