Sofa Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)


O sofa, I suffer
your mountain weight
of me.

Your tumbling
baobab of a night of me
outside the trunk of me,

spraying fingers, a thousand
roots of fingers
trapping me in like a spider.

Where's my cobweb?
Where's the cobweb of night,

casting an early
fisherman's net
on me, the fattest prey
lying on the sea bed of a sofa?

Shuffling sofa suffered,
crucifying me
by pillows gaining
the weight of stone

diving from a tumbling
crumbling mountain.

(ii)

I'm tossed around
by the trunk and tusk
of your pushing night.

An elephant of a night
has bounced off
and fled to my pillow

in the couch
rolling over onto
the sandy beach
of a rugged floor.

Bouncing off
a wave of sands
and pebbles crawling like fat ants.

In the storm I've turned
storm counting crawling ants
of desert-draped schema.