Fueled Lamp Of Dawn Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Dawn hangs
down
with a kerosene
lamp's gold,

a moth orchid's
orange petal
sitting
on the lips
of its melting wick

swinging
in the wind.

Floating on
an oval light
on the horizon's
crimson,

the hidden sun
beneath pink clouds
flickering
in a light yellow
powder of light,

as dim

cotton air grows
into graphite
edges sneezing
out in sharp jerks,

the skeletal wick
chewed into
ashes and ink
obsidian floated sheets
ground
into deep soot

pushing back
crowed morning
into a crow's
tail of pitch night,

black shades
wallowing like
the flowing wings
of black

butterflies flying
flags of wings.

(ii)

Only a speck
of gray hangs on,
as the lamp's
wick burns out
into a dark cloud.

A light wind
blows, but brings
back no light.
A breeze whirrs,

but sprays
no patch with
a full gold
color to catch
fleeing daylight.
(ii)

Breeze, pour out
this lamp's
kerosene
on arc of horizon.

Toss into this
graphite
air some oil

for a burning
lamp's wick
flipping out bright
gold light.

Shave off those
dark edges
for full lace wings
of light

floating
into cream
and silver
contours

of a brightened
morning,
a dawn lamp's wick
burnt out
into a daisy sheet
of mist,

as sun pops up
through paced pink
and daisy arrows
of light

behind
the horizon
sprinkling
feathers of rays,

an egret
flying off from dawn's
oil lamp

to fuel a creeping
full-winged
light of dawn

swallowed
by a morning
on gliding wheels.