Early Dawn Paddle Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Clothed in agate gray,
The moon rolls out
With pewter shoulders
And an abalone face,

Its smoky cloak melting off
To give way to silver
Bouncing down,
A bouncing alabaster ball.

As it swims along the pearl river
Of a drifting sky
Before it settles, planting
Itself into the deep roots
Of a torch-flashing night sun

Shooting its rays to bore
Golden beams
Drilled down by the gods,
Selene powdering it
With an oyster white glow.

The moon sprays egret wing
Shadows to float
On a quiet carpet cloaked
In dark greenish blue.

(ii)

A baby blue and neon silk
Swallows a sky of sparks,
As stars jump down

Like hurled javelins of indigo
And purple diving
Into the sea with the gods
To pull up fat fish

To settle in a tray of water
Fingers of a net will
Pull and scoop out with porous
Ropy hands to rake
And draw out tons of catch.

(iii)

A fishermen pulls a body
Of water towards him,
His net waddling and wallowing
Through, but grabbing
Not even a needlefish

To stitch his ragged hopes
Into the tightly woven
Herringbone fabric of his net

Woven into a satin
Nylon to hold with a firmer fist
Fish crawled into his net
That has leaked to sink back
A narrow-bodied sturgeon.

(iv)

And as he switches on
His gun-torch to fire a bullet
Of another gold light,

His net shivers and quakes
With a giant sturgeon
He pulls up, panting
Like a horse after gallops
And sky-high jumps,

His face flashing out
The beams of a grin so bright
That it pulls down
Stars to land in his canoe,

As he paddles through
A smooth silver splash of sea.