A Woolly Day Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The yeasty floating
ambling day
has been woolly.

Let cotton balls
bounce with every
stroll and strides
across a woolly floor

devouring rugs
and chunks
of unvacuumed
morsels and grime

breathed in
and spat out
by a piercing
brushing gale.

The feathery
caterpillar tossed
off a window
creeps
with quills

from wool stroking
an animal,
but sticking out
tongues for a sting.

White sheep
across the yard
light up
dry balls of reeds

turned balloons
of floss
busting into dust
in a ray of sun.

(ii)

Drifting warps
of white ants
bounce off
trailed spiraling

powder
from furniture
trailed on
by a feathery
dragged rug.

Cream yarns
of smoke
explode, bouncing
off a tight-lipped

kitchen spitting
out feathers
of smoke,
an oven choked

for a smooth
crusty bake
now breathing out

balls of ash
trapped in a gust
crushing it
into grey dust.

(iii)

Whistling birds
and crooning rivers
of a machine

pedaled and steered
by mum's
feet in woolen
floppies

stall through
veils of hairs
from woolly fibers
churning out balls
for woolen

dresses, a chubby-
cheeked baby
weaving balls
of floating smiles,

as she eats
a spongy, woolly cake,
peeking at
the tail of our bunny.