Moon Feathers And Wings Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

In the wallowing
egret-flying
light of midnight
flashing robins

and finches
into a poet's stormy
hands in waves,

let moon
feathers drop
on my page
on a night

of light pulling
my quill
through a tottering
featherless poem.

Verse, lift up
your head,
and let my sparrow

tails of lines fly
with albatross
and eagle wings

flapped by a stormy
quill
under the shone
eyes of a spraying,

wing-flapping
moon sailing over
my fallow page,

no ridges yet
to sow seeds for
sprouting lines
still ferreting out

dark clouds
to shoot up
into my dry itchy
quill.

(ii)

Scratching earth
for a big soft-backed
dove to hurl me
over moon

and eclipse storms
to the candle light
swinging over

a thick cigar burning,
glowing into
an inner bowl

to sprinkle ashes
over the wiggles
of a fleshy poem,

when moon
breathes out sun

and my quill
grows lighter than
an afterfeather

to float my hands
through
the rounded stone
of a porcupine
rolling over

and over to the beams
and wings
of the butter fly

to take me
to the drilled-in dot
freezing
a poet'sflight,

my poem in shreds
of feathers
with no flapped wing.

(iii)

And as I speak
to a glossy
egg of a moon
bouncing in
across my desk,

the moon
pulls back its feathers
and wings,
as a butterfly
of splashed light

drops and drops
on my page,
the breaking moon
egg hatched

by a stormy sun
at midnight
tossing over chicks
to squawk

through a poem
to pull
and stir a lover's
inner bowl
into a buzzing bee.