Convoluted Spectrum Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

I sang to a bird
in its sunny nest,
but a clicking butterfly
sang back to me

with its gaudy colors
of stars and moony
fires at a sunny
stretch of a bright day

that spun on
its swing of brightness
to a comet's
flying nest,

asteroids
sailing with parrots

in sky lanes of starlings
flashing cyan light
from their brown eyes.

And I knew the sun
was fooling me,
but it sang back to me

with goldfinches
in moonstone nests
woven
with alabaster fibers
and lace threads

made of cotton
balls and whizzed-off
balloons
bouncing off a headwind.

(ii)

I sang to a chameleon.
It sang back
with shouting colors:

Don't let me swallow
you with hue
from twilight's
burning sky
of flamy butterflies

rising like sparks
from a harmattan bush,
as both sail
towards moon
in a hollow sky,

daylight still swinging
its lances of rays.

And the half-born
moon in its shell
sang back to me:

Let me wake up
with a rainbow crawling
with a chameleon
attired in all colors
of the world
over a canyon gorge

carrying all hue
to sing day and night
into all nests,
when daylight gongs
with an ibis

and moon rings
with chirping crickets
in chameleon nests
of night

in hanging shirts
of daylight
after a rolled-out eclipse.