Fire From Those Eyes Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The flames swelling
to shoot your eyes out
at somebody
can burn another pair
of eyes peeking at you
with digging strokes.

They roast the ripples
of a smile flapping
wings on a lake's face,
as they float and flow
with moth-skinned flowers

to stroke you with preened
and glazed feathers
of renewed traction,
strokes and pats singing
through your veins,

their banks overflooded
with too much debris
to carve out channels
for the breath of a furnace
from your spouse's wounds.

Widening with glowing fire
jumping out of your eyes
to roast both lumps
of sulk and swallowed pain
that only tear your throat.

And you rattle and rumble
again like a rusty barrel
rolling on grains of sand
chewing your soles, as you tramp
down a beach strip.

(ii)

The flames pouring out
of your gaze carry fuel
to burn a condor-winged
grin into ashy strips
and cinders of old ripped rags
you'd rather forget.

Ruffle and discard them.
Push them through
an outbox into a recycle bin

or trash dump. For sunny
times still lie ahead
for the soft freezing palms
of beach-swiped breezes

to cut off the fire growing
from your flying flamy eyes:

Let that cutting gold
and scarlet feathers
of crackling humming flame
carry only afterfeathers

from flapped wings
after skipping red cardinals
and rolling gold finches
in the seed-filled veranda
have passed on

moth-soft messages to fill up
potholes still digging
into your sinking inner core,
as you swell back,
a floated swelling swan on water.