Old Camel Bicycle Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

As he rides
his bicycle
on a camel's
swelling
and shrinking
saddle,

the bumpy hills
and valleys trudge
faster than
his circle rounds

on rattling
pedals
shrieking
at every jerk,

when time
rides up
and across
mountains
of clouds,

and sails
through valleys.

His eyes feet
hurled over
far-flung horizons

in a fraction
of a split second,

the retina
flying faster
than a rocket.

(ii)

He swells
and rises
in a galloping
aircraft,

as he pedals
down
a bowl of a hill
ballooning
with bumps,

his mouth too
full of air
to whisper back

to a bird
in his chest
shrinking pocket.

How many
stitches of spokes
will he fly
over, lifting his legs,

as time lifts
an index finger

(ii)

When will
he pedal
the bicycle
without

a motorcycle's blurt
and croak,
too many toads
and choked frogs

screaming
in the swamps
of his wet
fatigue brewing
rivers

to float him
along, as he jams
a toe
against a winged
hanging fender?

How many
swamps
will his tires
croak through,
as his breath hisses,

but there's
no snake poking
a fork,

as a magnolia
swinging
on its petiole
from a peeping bush
in a wind
of perseverance

take over his
handlebars
and pedal,
his toe clip
a bleeding bird.