Tightened Chains Of Snow Poem by Felix Bongjoh

i)

Chains of feathery late bouncing Spring
snow hang down
a folded sky closing in. Melting down

like wind-blown flakes of wax
from burping candle lights.

Shutting up sky's dangling canopy.
Bolting up. Earth's ceiling locked.

Gates to heaven closed and plastered,
straits and corridors narrowing in.
Sun too has shut its doors.

At the dock, as one stammering hooting ship
throws itself across ridges of waves,

moth flakes of snow sail off
with butterfly smoky dusty wings,

drop in manacles
and chain trees wearing huge hats
of white and beige leaves.

(ii)

And leave the world
wondering - who will be next, who next?

Who will be the goat hanged
by its stray horns
from the falling snow branches grown trees?

Shall I be the next to scream, the day's hangman
weaving a reef knot
to crucify me at the supermarket? At the Post Office?

At the Mall, where passing folks
pluck my lips like guitar strings
at my tuba-voiced looks, I flap off my wings

from men and women
with hoopoe-lipped chats flowing out
of knitted and threaded persiflage
hanging down chin to navel

like the round chains of a bicycle,
as customers walk down an isle pedaling banter
on crank arms and crank sets,

a wheeling chain folding and unfolding laughs
as the day pedals its bicycle on rocky snow.

(iii)

Apartment buildings wear and brandish
chains on their necks and feet.

Snow-bloated electric poles
in soldiers' salute
with hand raised cockatiels wink at cockatoos
on drifting overgrown telegraph poles,

lining themselves up down the front
of sky rises heavily dressed
in white coats and long-tailed whydah overalls.

Chains of snow shower down slopes
and angles of drifting walls,
plucking no buzzing guitar strings I hear when trapped
in a holed store. Playing no cymbals on roofs

when talkative strings of rain
untighten their chains with thunder's drums,
winds opening leaves' mouths
to sing bubbling tunes to heat up a day's chilly cauldron.