In Search Of Sun Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The children search
with hands of pliers
and chisels.

A widening shaft
deepens and shifts,

but we don't find
the petaled sun,
an oversized sunflower

shedding off
its glowing corona
ray-widened petals,

as sun beams are flung out
on a ridge
in a sun-showered valley.

Walls drift in slowly
to squeeze me
into a narrow track,

entrails of a viper
sipping me in, as I pop
out of its

dark mouth into
beams and silvery
swells of sun.

Narrowing shaft
walls drift off, expanding
wings into wider paths.

(ii)

Let the sun
flash out cream
pelican
and white cockatoo wings

melting into
a swinging, cutting silver
light to slash off
all shadowy feathers

Chisel out the brightest
sun from a tower
hanging in the silver

and cream of air spinning
a bustard-feathered sun.

(iii)

Dig and plough
into crocodile-mouthed
slits devouring

all ants and midgets
between the seat
and back pillows.

Rake out every
feather and thread
from the corner
skirt panel,

sometimes hiding
squeaking sparrows
of rubbing plastic
toys and accessories.

(iv)

The sun is not
on the sky's wings
of crest feathers,

a crowned crane
taking off
with a bobbing head
and flapped wings.

The sun spins
in a couch,
acrystal-edged medal
buried in a hidden

corner stifling
the crystal mouth
of grandma's medallion,

its flashy lariat
and docket singing
out a monody

of grandma's sun
found deep inside
a davenport'scushion boxing
unbolting

an alligator-mouthed
yawn of sun
from a toothy scratch,

grandma's framed photo
harbored
by an incarcerated
medallion we've been
searching for years.