The Last Sun Stretch Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Let's hurry on down the calm sea's stretch.
Through the hunter green waters
soft swells and weak-handed scrolls roll us
like wheels gliding on firm gripping tracks.

The sun's steady glow has taken the sailor's seat
in a boat gliding along a flattened carpet of water.

The sun's arrows fly in its steady gleam
and shimmer above, as gliding asparagus bodies
of water whistle softly, landing on greenish weaves,

singing gardens hugged by zephyrs blowing
more and more light. Sun lances swing
pearl rays to kiss cream and lace rays on the west
horizon, far-flung trees and towers swelling

in chrome and white topaz, agate
blowing the deep trumpet of brighter light,
as sun stays steady on an alto
hurled off by singing breezes carrying a hundred clarinets,
a harmonica of wind blowing through.

(ii)

The quivering swells grow, but our ride takes us
to the shamrock sun-embroidered watershed.
The eclectus parrot peeks at us
with a telescopic eye. Bounces at our feet,

as blade-lipped waves bounce over lurching loops
and life continues along a strait flanked
by trees. Are these tiny gold patches bees buzzing
through to hover over a fondling hearth of sunlight?

The sun's giant arm brush strokes from
a fist grabbing a painter's brush,
a compass tilted and turned round to spray
cotton and expanding white sheets
on a canvas of gold air below layers of gems.

(iii)

A table of light sprays thinly embroidered silk
unfolding a thin center nylon cloth
of light carrying thin tall white-petaled flowers slouching
on floating vases. Air is crystal vases of light.

Air is dropping aluminum chimes chirping amid
thin-lipped cymbals muttering and whispering
in the slithering arms of breeze
and buzzing bees from a jazz of sunlight,

as sapphires and tourmaline sheets of rays hang
behind a sea shore of rising trees
lit by leaves swaying like electric bulbs.

The little green birds also flap
beige wings, their crimson crows flipping out white lilies.
Rods of crystal air planting roots.
Beige glass stems and white leafy metal air rising.

The bird-flowers swarm mid-air and sky,
flipping out ribbons of petals from white flowers.

(iv)

But in the ray-glazed sea, we've been awoken
again and again by nibbling sharks
hitting hull, as the boat's gun port, bobbing its head
under a bobbing flashy sun, points at a huge shark.

The sun too hurls a silver splash thinning into
a stropped ray, a sun's sword
flung at a flint cloud harboring below the hull

a bull shark widening the nimbus cloud
of its mouth, the blade-teeth that have sunk
through the flesh of a people's punch,

but only nibbling off small pieces of wave-struck
and shattered meat chunks
left to crawl and grate the mouth of a shark.

The crawling beast of a nimbus melted
by flames from a sun's hands, leave ants and wasps
in the beast's mouth, a storm wave

devouring the sun-struck tawny ray-burned shark
unbolting its mouth completely
to devour our stone-bloated boat,

as we roar off, pulled by a large-mouthed engine
to a sun-sprayed shore,
crystal towers of pink arrow-fibered light
rising to kiss sky's glass and chrome jug
pouring bordeaux wine into clinking glasses.