Confession And Penance Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

In the fossil blur
of sight
and saw-toothed
edges of time
under a splashed
morning sun,

I turned away
my eyes
from a blind man
stuck in bog.

In an expanding
light scrolled out

and sprayed
over every speck
and feather,

I cut off my eyes
from a slaying,

a dove of a dude
twisted
to see himself

through the mirror
of his breaking
heels pulled off

into shreds
and dry sisal rags.

And I let ash clouds
turn me away
from his screaming.

And flung over
no strings or twigs
to grab

and slip back into
the bird-spread
expanse of his freedom.

(ii)

Big mirror of sky
capturing all
my lava and shadow

clouds pulling
me into the depths
of sin pulling

back my eyes to silver,
clearer, clearer
mirrors drawn down

in anti-flash white,
splashed white
and daisy white sheets,

I can see all
speckles and specks
of my misdeeds.

I pull your hands
to me, O firmament
rolling across pearl
and powder

mirrors of sky throwing
back all light
to tilt my head down
to my chest

for the landing hands
of yours to cleanse
me of a pebble hue
of night, hawk wings

flapping wings of burnt
rubber, as I smell
my cutting trespasses.

(iii)

Let my bed spin
with prickles and thorns.
Let it spin
with the blackberry nails
of cat-clawed thorns.

Let it spin with
fire thorns
and porcupine tomato
roaring paws

and roses flipping out
untrimmed nails
to dig into skin and flesh,
as I roll over,

burning in my contrite
bed galloping down
a stiff cliff
by the swollen
river to cleanse me
with injected shark bites.

Let the swift flight
of lightning
and a comet's path roar
down with a thunderclap's
fire to roast me

into cotton and chiffon
ashes flying
into the feathers
and wings of flowing
drooling arching doves.