A Window's Flower Pot Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The world sits
on my window
flashing out
sun with sunflowers

shooting out
dawn and dusk rays
to arouse
a rising sun

and settle a beach
baked sleeping
beams of a day

that was spun
by silver
and cream helices
of my flight

through corridors
of air brushing
me in my wing-flapping

couch and sailing
rocker rolling
with me
in an expanding
firmament,

these wallowing stars
from crystal furniture
peeking at me,

lifting me
with gossamer wings
and throttled
floating beams,

an aircraft
landing and taking
off from my lap,

a robin staring at me
with gems
in its sun-lit eyes.

(ii)

Cactus raindrops
in my flower pot
pull in
and swoosh out

a rainstorm
of past holes and pits
devouring me

with an onyx blanket
of night wrapping me up,
as I rise
to pull in sun

with a curtain I drift
to the cotton hairs
of a cackling
and chortling angle
opening
its wide mouth,

as stars jump out
from its snowing teeth.

(iii)

Raindrops
from the hazy emerald
sky of echeveria

wet lumps and gobs
soak me
to the bones,

as I lean back
in my couch gazing
at a raining ceiling,

my flying shirt
and baggy pants
drier than desert
parches of silver air.