Morning Drink Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(a toast when night and daylight shine with the same eye)


(ii)

The melted daylight
and thawed night
have spun and woven

drained silt
and brown watery clay,
a pad gliding
under every sole.

We've washed off
our feet by lakes
and streams creeping

into wild shrubs
and crawling vines
sprouting from marsh.

Bog and sludge
from garble
have been carried

by a moss river
sipping culvert edges,
eroded streams flowing

into a receptacle
off a churned sea
of waves in squiggles,

washing greasy
and cakey stones
clear of all smudge.

(ii)

Into this dark
watershed,

O boulder carrying all rocks,
I pour the waters

of my dragged sobs
and snivels
and groans
from stony throats,

my sunk sores
too heavy, when pus
fills a cloudy sky.

I leave my wails
to a sky
cleared of all patches,

silver and gold
rays shot
by a sun on wheels

into dark corners
of this cup,

a midnight and cream
drink poured
from a crystal kettle
by hands gloved
with the leather of lamb.