Moon Of Day Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Even in splayed
daylight, the sun bleeding
in silver and gold,

the moon
shines and glimmers
from a bowl
perched on an steel
pole of an electric
eye rolling

on east-angled wheels
of a nest
carrying an egret sun
flapping flamingo wings,

when a moon
bulb shines brightest
after my nap
grinding a poem,

its bulb blowing out
at night to swell
back in spun spirals
of light sweeping
across a sleeping face

covered to gulp
down winter's daylight
stars with a poem
breathing in night

beams and onyx shadows
of sun in its singing
nest of cutting rays

at its piercing height,
when dark blanket
of day in graphite and ebony
shadows.

(ii)

O moon of day,
that sun
melted into ashes behind
the sapphire air
of a star-crowned moon

hovering over me
with the sails
of a ship carrying
a singing sailor

crushing off storm waves
with the tic
of a rolling whirring breeze
with wings
from the a birdy orison
to sweep its light
through
from a condor's

wingspan, as a moon
of day hanging
over a tottering ship
delivers a drone

singing a poem
into a poet burning
in the thick fumes

of a flamy poem
only moon sings out
with a thrush's voice.