Dawn Stroll Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Breeze-clothed, I plod
down a sandy stretch,
a fold-over of my life.
Moon-hugged, I grab
my companion, silence,

by her arm. Rubbing
myself against
her shoulders. Leaning
over her head;
breathing her in, a taste

of windy salt tossed
into my sauce of memories
with neither tinge,
nor tang of lime purple balls
puncturing the sky.

I carry stars shredded
into a swinging funnel
of air. Piping down
narrow tubes of light
digging out my core of night
to lay out a sandy floor.

Carrying me through
sky's cream weaves of stars
through silver to distant
islands of a past
roaring with silvery, foamy
teal and tan sea waves.

I carry the gold-lined moon
on my head, a round
cream ball splashing
out winged shadows
of light, rolling over my feet.

Daisy, feathered light
falls on me, cutting through
with wings of birds
gyrating across my chest.

(ii)

Brushing my sealed lips
bolted by padlocks,
their keys jammed into keyholes
of life with no mouth

to scream and roar "Tight gates
to the next paced step".

I hug my companion
again, widening my ears
to her whispers,
as I sip the salt of waves

flung and hurled
by swelling high seas carrying
wrecked ships
with ripped cream ribbons
from wind-ripped sails.

A tree of silence
swinging with fruits of memory
flips out its leafy branches
sheltering us,
silence gripping me firmly
with soft palms

of my whispering
departed daughter
tucking her fingers into mine,
brushing my chest

with a zephyr from scrolls
of waves unfolded
onto the beach, tussock
and cornsilk sheets of water

carrying scribbles
of powder-lined cream flowers
laid out with foamy debris
to wave stroking flags of wind.

Hoisted by more trees
flipping over leaves
from an alabaster book,

rayed air shot down
from a ball of hiding rolling sun.