When Life Croaks Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Horse rider
trots through
the marshes,

a raffia bush
widening
into bog
and sandy mud.

And when
a neighing horse
is out of steam,

the rocky man
lets his boots
and gnashing teeth
and tic's toots

and heavy whistles
smash
and devour
hard coated loam

and swampy sand
and gravel.
He lets
his full weight
stamp earth

with a deep-throated
croak and groan,
mud splashes
rising to his shin.

(ii)

Sun sneaks through
tree leaves
to fall
on him like a heavy
piece of rock.

And spears
of light tear him
into a walking
broken silhouette

in fibers
and loose strands
of sun beams

tattooing him
with lace lines
running
down his spine,

his pushing
thickening breath
a loud
croak throttling it
back into gear.

Times croak
and croak
and groan and roar

in widening spots
of clayey marsh,

as sandy sludge
expands its wings
on the ground.

(iv)

And after horse
has grazed
and whinnied
and brayed,

croaking life
is back on track,
as he thumps
through the marsh,

croaking steps
growing again
into a groan
without a yellow mane.

A stretching wind
pluck guitar strings
on palm leaves
withered into strings
of brooms,

the wind's plectrum
lifting him
to space near home.