Flashy Sun And Fishing Boys Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The flashy sun
covers earth below
with the large
swallowing mouth
of a safari hat

engulfing a skull,
its brim expanding
short shadows
into stretched-on

sweeping condor wings
in flight. Hovering
along a deity's track.

Rolling out new
cornfields
with every wing flap
and whispering,
murmuring wind.

Engulfing a head
with all
its ropes of nerves
to close up
its bubbling sluicegate

from a deluge
of blood baked brittle
and ground into soot.

And powdered
over slithering shouts
of cascaded
stone-bumping waters
warbling through.

(ii)

Let the world stay
wrapped up and tightened
into a moth knot
in its trench
tunneling through ochre
and dripping sienna

from the old wounds
of an over-bled sky,
as sun turns scarlet
in its expanding cut.

Hear the river
wail, as it wiggles
and swine-squeals
in the gliding flying wind,

waters babbling
over stray bunches of leaves
from branches
stroking silver sparkles,

as half dry leaves
clog narrow passages
between stones
opening their mouths
like dry dead carp heads.

(iii)

By the river a flat pitch
carries a labyrinth
of children
running around like knots.

Drifting, drifting along
a stray string flung over
by old floods
into a detritus left to beam
under a flowery sun.

From the crowded maze,
two chunky lads
poke through raining sunrays.

They saunter and march
to the river bank and drop
worm-baited hooks,

one of them pulling out
a fat trout gazing at him
like sun, as he peeps
at the other dude,

blurting out
as he throws back the fish
into the river:

We've had enough
of crimson skies
bleeding on land,

leaving only scorched bones
and stones,
but we'll leave earth its flesh.