CALAMITY
(Any/Where)
Here,
in my rolled-up shorts,
the أذان bellows besides
me.
There,
across the ocean,
the house I just
called home, but
here,
thirty minutes away
without traffic, my
father, probably
sleeping
soundly as in
snoring.
There,
back when,
Ramy tells me
I snore, but
here,
now, no one tells
me anything. I call
Teita and say:
I’m coming over
for إفطار and it is not
a conversation.
There,
somewhere I know
only by memory, Mama
tells me she has found
a home in
Houston,
but
here,
my father cries
at night and I cannot
sympathize.
There,
I’m ruder
in New York,
but
here,
I’m more alive,
which is to say, more
prone to panic, more
likely to count
steps and taxi
meters.
There,
I said it and
felt good,
but
here,
I say everything
with my skin. I twitch
over سحور and that is how
I contribute
to conversation,
but
there,
Ramadan is just
YouTube and
an excuse to write.
There,
I twitch anyway
and no one
gets it.
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. 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.