Gold Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Day breaks
with mineshafts,

an awakening
sun spitting
out yellow-brown

crickets
and grasshoppers
of light,

drifting spots
of hard
and soft beams

skipping through
blinds and curtains.

In the slow
wind
on fast wheels,

a dragged
and spun
whistling splash
of beaming opals

dissolving
into polished jasper

from a hopping
sun landing

through
the verandah
glass panes.

(ii)

A jabbing
sun punches
through,

dropping off
flying sprinkles
on my bedroom,

a light
swallowing
a rolling floor

full of specks
and full-bodied
rolling agates
and apatite

sneezed out
by bright beams
of sun rays

sifted by leaves
from
tree branches

swinging
in breezes
and sprawling winds.

(iii)

Is this crystal
gold crown of sun
the mineshaft

soon to open
its gates
to deeper shafts
of garnets

and mewling
cat's eyes
clothed in gold hue,

as the sunny day
mewls
with light winds?

Or is it
a growling
tiger's
eyes poised
to maul and devour

every trace of gold
tossed off
by a gold morning

piercing through
with the gold eyes
of sunflowers
dancing on the floor?