A Fire Of Aloes Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

How green,
these arms stretched
out, arrows
and needles stuck

to the edges
of their spread palms
stuck out

like flat swords
to smack back and saw off
stretchy winds
with whydahs' tails.

They ward off
arrows from a hurricane
piercing air,

ripping gossamer
screens that blind
and seal eyes,

holding
them back from

peeking at the arrow
of a red flame

rising to slash
a stretched piece
of hanging sun.

They pound and split
and break the stones;
and grind them
into ash and powder,

as a quarry's smooth stone
roars back
at every hammer's strike.

(ii)

When the eagle-winged
sun flaps its wings
to it spray overbright

rays, let a racing gale
trumpet and blast out
moles and rats

from their deep
dug-out nests.

As strong winds blow
with buzzing
bees' mouths,
throw out a handful
of bait to pull in

creeping moles and rats,
as they ride the winds
to the edges
of hills hatching hundreds

of clawed
and glazed stones
for a stone-crusher's
crocodile mouth.

(iii)

Let palms grow
glossy-green,
as the tide rides
on wheels veered off

to claws and muzzle
and stabs in the back,
and green arms.

Let them flip out
flames of aloes
as they barricade them
with their saw-edged arms.

At a hillside quarry,
moles and rats
nibble off nuts
and claw and dig
into smooth stones,

a stone-crusher
flinging off
more smooth stones

behind red rays
of aloes burning
the smooth stones

into a soot of night
to take the rodents
back to their homes.