Narrower And Narrower Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Silver and cream
stars of splashes
and sprinkles
flicker and twinkle

over a bird-tail
narrow
track between
two flooded

rivers swollen
with watery
feathers,
wings of sprinkled

splashed waters
from both
galloping
bodies of water.

The floods
run deep, shooting
up plastic
and twill weaves

of splayed sprinkles
jumping
into the narrow
track, flogging

mem and women
with silver whips
of rain
from the rivers.

(ii)

It rains, drops
of water flying
from
the floods

and not
from the dry sky
spinning
beams and glows.

It rains
heavily from
the rivers
grown into geysers.

The floods run
deep, deep
flying over

with wide
albatross feathers
of water

flinging thick
wings of splashes
streaming over
in drizzles,

rain shot from
flooded rivers
through soaked banks.

Waters fly
with arrows
and pecking hoopoes
whisking
sakabula bird's tails.

(iii)

The floods fly
with astrapias' tails
spread and sprayed

to fall down
on the track
in thin
stretchy razors

and blades,
everybody
ducking cutting
waters

jumping from flooded
rivers, as a sky
spins azure
and cerulean rays

and spits out
no rain from
stratus streaks
and cirrus
afterfeathers of clouds.

(iv)

An anthill of faces
collapses,
the second batch
of men
and women

waiting
to walk on the track
between
the flooded rivers

thinning down
into one
stretchy line,

ants of dudes
creeping
back slowly
into nests of fear,

their only bridge
pushing
and pulling them
back into their
cocooned homes.