Flower's Quiet War Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Pearl sheet of sky
over this swim

of leaf and gold ribbons
unclothing
the pinnate trowel

to hurl off the spear
of the needle-lipped
shoot with a bird's beak.

There's war
on the ivory sky
of this flower

wearing an oversized
flying gown
of leaves and man,

a hunter drawing out
his sword
for the air clash
of gladiators,

an amphitheater
for spectators
too small for the bird

that must fly out
to peck at a spectator's
overreaching
floating eyes
bouncing through

the emerald and gold
cloud of a starry
world carried
by the winding trunk

loaded with sheathes,
these shoulder bags

whistling off
screaming swords
with stretchy
widow bird's tails.

(ii)

O flower rising
into a turbulence
of sword-tongued
flowers and leaves

kissing air
woven with the arms
of a stretchier gloss

interwoven
and stuck
into white sleeves

too stiff and stretch-necked
to be waved
into the turbulence
of thrumming,

murmuring arms
of birds
and chirping cricket wings
of a flower
at war with itself,

a sky's stars
flipped off
with birds' wing tips

in an expanding war
of gloss and pokes,
the bird of Paradise

raising a tall
conqueror's flag
of gold
and seafoam ribbons.