Insects From A Leaking Sky Poem by Felix Bongjoh

Insects From A Leaking Sky



(i)

Jump down, cream specks
of cotton and white flies.
Float down O aphids
and spider mites trailing

other shredded white cotton
and ripped nylon patches
of small insects and white
butterflies flapping wings,

as they land after ashy
tottering white butterflies
have floated and danced,

their wings all soaked
on earth's widening cream carpet
thickening into a rocky rug.

But the white and cream
spinning insects
won't stop falling off sky's
breaking ceiling leaking
with more specks
and splashes of cream flies.

Cream and daisy insects,
O white flies, cream mosquitoes
flapping powder wings,
tumble and flip over without
crashing on earth's floor.

Cartwheel down slowly,
white butterflies flipping out
ashy arms and legs,
as you spiral down with speckles

splashed out from your
swinging limbs
and breaking fingers stretched
out into crowds
of more tumbling cream insects.

(ii)

Floating white butterflies
and skipping cream cicadas
in the pedaled wind,
as spiraling insects sketch
broken bicycles they ride,

as they roll down
in ashy splashes and threads
sewing air into cream twill
weave carpets swinging
with them,

as they fall off
and creep
into streams of melted
snow flakes

swallowing the insects
in the noisy gulp
of a buzzing, humming wind,
as the white flies

sail down in musical notes
double whole note,
sixty-forth notes, whole notes
thirty second notes,

They all steer a quiet melody
flowing from the mouths
of quiet breezes melting into a whirr
of floated-down snowflakes.

(iii)

Firmament, stop splashing
white flies
onto our window panes
cracking into their crystals

sizzling with too many
cream sticking flies
to be contained by a lone
freezing gardener,

wiping them off from his shirt
ashy cream flies of snow.

White butterflies,
we have
no more cabbages
for you to feed on - not
even other brassicas,

as you swarm down
like cream locusts
in sailing flying egret wings.

Tell Jason, we need no Neem oil,
nor lathering soap,
as we face no insects, but flying
snowflakes landing on us.

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Felix Bongjoh

Felix Bongjoh

Shisong-Bui, Cameroon
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