What Gem Of Moth Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

You light up
unstained night
with half-sun.

A firmer
graphite of storm
rides over you,

as you
bleach it into
lace candle skin.

But you
unfold your
sea
of cream wax
with
feathers

gathering
no ashes for
a splashed
fly sprinkling
embers
of the speck

that doesn't
turn flower
to be picked
and
stroked

by a soft
finger
blowing a flute
of touch,

the brush
to shine you
into a tray

dishing out
light
to an eye
that breathes
it in,

churns it
and lets a cream
rose
crawl on your
face
to beam you

with the ripples
and stitched
stretch mark

of a landing
grin
taking off

before eye
catches it,
as it flies,
wings blending
with melting
candle light.

(ii)

O moonstone,
you burn
your eyes into
mine,
crawling with
floating legs

into a campfire
by a wing
of your tent
sheltering me
with beams

from your lighthouse,
as I swim
in your spray
of a cerulean sea,

a high-perched sky
on light legs
crawling
on my unclothed
palm to grab

a handkerchief
to clear off
rivers on the cheeks
of a rocky mourner

perched
on the peak
of moth light
you powder me with.