Ain't Ant Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Ain't ant. I'm a speck
of pick ax horns bulldozing
a ton of earth for an anthill.

I'm a patch of hot paint
flying out with
a phoenix's wings
to be burnt in mourning's pyre.

To rise back from ashes
into the tree of a sky rise
diving into a cloud's ash,

where I crawl and brawl
with heights
of light to tickle an architect's
eyes on an angle

croaking on paper to place a dash,
the rise of a river flowing
to a pinnacle on a broken bank.

(ii)

I'm a winged midget racing
for a streak of earth
to shoot sky with a skyscraper.

And the rumbling rocket
taking off in a sky-pecking feat,

my nestled flower
a nested lava for a thousand ants
in a bubbling poking cockpit.

Standing on a peak
to poke off a roof of cloud.

Swallowing the world
into the fat pyramid of a tower,

the tallest hill
on the street spilling out
clerks dressed in wings of files.

grinding squiggles of words
into waxy pulp melting

into clouds enveloping gray-haired
workers in crowds
peeking at the fattened bird of me.

(iii)

Ain't amp but the heat wave
that bites and sticks:

I'm a spark
in a flame spilling off soot
from a blacksmith's feet
and a crystal necklace
of glittering fireflies swinging

on a queens' drawn-out neck
of ants to burn
beige and brown dust into midnight.

To crawl in a chewing dawn's
sprayed and torn fire,

a deep hearth bubbling
with popping midgets
in black uniforms screaming like weevils.

(iv)

Ain't taint, but paint
spraying an ant's splashed crawl
for Picasso's prize
at a stall withering in the sun

out of shivers from
touches and strokes that land
only soft still smiles.

Spinning only ripples to land
on a garnet bead

in a string of cars crawling
back from a depot,
where, like birds, we peck at cans

and jars of food to fuel
networks and tunnels of folks
spun by pine needles
of ants to grow into ambling elephants.

(v)

Ain't ant. I'm the pimple
in a horse's dapple

to fly the beast
in one crane-like gallop

onto a desk, a Chief Executive
breaking his hand

without smacking me, as stars
fly across his eyes,
leaving him in daylight's night
to crawl with stinging wasps.