Love After Snow Poem by Felix Bongjoh

Love After Snow
(i)

After the snow
pushed
with heavy fists
from the sky
by the gods,

Zeus still shakes
a wriggling
mint lightning bolt
seen only by a breeze

to kick down
from a tall tree
a fat-trunked chunk.

An Icy snow bulb
Plants itself, white
and cream to sink
into the ground

with a plop
on melted snow
creeping into
white-coated orchids.

A dahlia flower
with two score plates
for goddesses
of trotted love grows

with other chunks
of snow dumped
down to spread into new
petals of love.

(ii)

A downy woodpecker
and black-eyed
junco of wind-carved
ice blocks
of hardened snow
stand side by side,

drinking from the same
dahlia plate,
exchanging winks
like flying earth stars

of love exploding
into white sparks
to ignite a white bluish flame.

How blue-lined
a bright flame, as if
from a cigarette lighter
oozing out

with the expanding sky
of a smoker's
peaked throb
eyeing a gem settled
over moonstones

of zephyr-polished snow
ice blocks
taking shape
in air's deep freezer.

There's no God-made
bird spinning
wings through air,

but cream wind-etched bulk
on earth slate,

a hug of two white arms
curved out
into a tunnel pulling
a brushing rubbing breeze.