Sun Shines Saucers Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The table is set for guests
bow-tied with a piece
and whole faces of you,
as you beam and glow

with dawn's brightening fireside
spilling ashes to powder
an awakening sun still
widening its eyelids into a round torch.

What sun shines saucers
from the rising flames
of your eyes
bleeding with the egg yolk,

from which you're hatched
bouncing out of the fire
of a baked dawn.

What candle butterflies
float from waxy lips,
the sky spinning with pieces
of quartz and moonstone,

as a yellow sun
shines within a gold sun
and life floats
with a boat on dawn-lit
burning horizon.

The fisherman shakes off
silver beads of water
from a raccoon butterfly fish

for the table to draw
me to be with you in your cabin
dressed with the curtains
your petals shift

from star to star, as a tailor
cuts out beams
for an embroidery.

(ii)

What smoke floats
with fog melting into the cotton
growing you to touch
an empty moon-sprayed
sheet of paper.


Balls of cream wool
pop out on sky's drifting angle
sitting on my late night desk,

as stars melt ants
of cursives
crawling with a message
carried by dragon flies
of new hieroglyphics.

Splashes of sky extend
chatty eyes
late into a white night of glass,

emerald arms of your nest
flipping out the early parrot
whispering in night's daylight.

(iii)

Hedged in by green curtains
shading you
in your drifting balcony,

a friend attired in frangipani
waits for you,

as a floating morning sun
fits into your white butterfly
attire of plumeria.