After and Before

After and Before

What will save us after the sea
forgets its shore—

after we run out of human names
for the hurricanes?

after we have gotten so easy
with burning we turn
our air to ash?

Maybe we could kick the tires
of industrial desire
before their punctures
blow us out

replace the green ladders
on which trees climb their seasons
before the climate becomes
a roller coaster—

maybe we could take
a shared breath
and remember
what came (what still
comes)

before us.