Flowers Of Sun Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Stropped spades of sun rays
scoop out more flattened earth
and bleached tarmac
for lengthened and dwarfed

shadows, as we walk, faltering
and limping. But we continue
to stroll and hobble and loiter

on a parking lot flowered with
folks in gaudy t-shirts
and rainbow colors of singlets and blouses.

We bounce and tramp and clump
and lumber along.
We stoop and lunge and pierce

our way through the crowds
on paved floors outdoors
under fiber glass and in the street.

Sun knits and stitches wavy
spots and leaves and petals
to dark stemmy streaks of petioles
carved out by chisels of rays.

(ii)

The depot store grows its own
flowers on drapery,
sticking out more sun-filtering
thinned nylon and silk.

Bright flowers are planted in the garden
of rolls and folds of cream fabric,

a huge field spinning a hall's stretchy
gallery with flowers on fabric
for window blinds and curtains.

(iii)

In the thorny sun pricking us
with needles from the sweltering
sticky sun, we squeeze
ourselves into a flowery sports car,

and soon land in a room,
whose honeycomb shades

and faux wood blinds drink and spit
out light woven into the leaves
and petals of tall flowering trees
shrinking under spikes of sun.

How we've been playing
with our elongated shadows along
silver corridors of light

doing the foxtrot with melting shadows
swirling ripples, eddies of heat
and more shadows of leaves.

And sailing petals popped off
a myrtle tree, a limelight hydrangea,

as a catalpa tree waves its flowers
of light through newly clipped-in slats.