Riding On Balls Of Muscles Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

A young slim
mechanic
lifts
a ton-heavy
engine
grinding him

down towards
an earth floor
of pebbles

and thorns
of small
cobblestones
croaking
and rattling,
as he rides

through
a loud-mouthed
earth, moths
and butterflies
of dust

tracking his
heavy steps
trailed
by dragged feet,

the fastest
wheels
to his garage.

(ii)

Garage, you
cheat
the young man

with your
elastic
distance stretching
on and on,

as the lad
pumps up
more rounded

balls of muscles
to roll
down his arms,

as his breath
thunders
and groans,
as he snails
along,

trudging
and trudging on,
as he pulls
his feet

like heavy logs
of wood
on a thumping
timber truck,

his feet
sinking into earth's
floor,
but not breaking.

(iii)

His crushed
legs go numb
and stiff,

his garage
just a few paces off,
rolled out
to a stretching path,

as the man's
balls of arm muscles
bounce
on and on
with shouldered wheels,

as he puffs
out air of breath
shooting him
off to a safe arrival,

his face
and torso tied tight
by silvery
and gold streams
of ropy sweat:

O man of steel,
your sky spins
a bulldozer
levered by the pivot
of your inner bowl,

you're elephant
and lion
joining hands
to carry a mountain
without crumbling.