Furniture Pouncing On Us Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

A broken mirror
also shines
with a spider's crystal
amoebic spray,

light tossed out
and sprayed in sheets
and sheathes
to wrap us blind

with screens of our own
curtains and window
blinds flipping out
only punches below the belt,
as we hide

behind the mountain
of a high,
rocky choking couch
flipping over
with an oversized bump.

(ii)

O swell on a chair's
falling forehead
rising above
our heads like flattened
palms delivering
a smack, when a side pillow

drops through cheeks
onto knees,
every part of our body
a beast out of control

never honking
as it pokes us, stabs us
with sharp edges
of a denim cushion cover,
as a hanging
antimacassar spanks us.

O let that sea
of a bloody sateen weave
not drown me
in its warps, ruffled waters

pushing a swimmer
down swinging curtains
in the breezy room
with tree branch arms,

an albatross wingspan
of a butterfly stroke
tying me up with a flung
condor's wings,
as a throttled wind flies through.