Who Knocks At The Door Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

If the horseman
riding
the branches
of a Hyperion tree,

padlock all doors
and windows
and rattling cracks,
letting no roach
sizzle through.

If the snail hands
of a breeze,
let the delivery van
drive down
the garden gate.

I'll pick up
hamburgers and pizzas
for holiday-makers

and grandma's
milk shake creamy
as November's air,

when folks ride
through streets,
pedaling
their two legs

and sprayed feet
of shadows
flying with time's wings.

(ii)

If the tall giant
riding a sharp light
of lightning,

go grab a sword
to chop off
a lone sky's lizard
slashing air
into two halves.

When wings
fly with time,
unseal windows
and doors
to hug
a night's wind

and ride me safely
over a silver
a silver bridge
of dawn to daisy wings
of another day.