Whistles And Clarinets Of Strange Beasts Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Spears of whistled and sneezed-out
voices hit and stitch themselves
to the spine of a continuous
soft tap and drawn out scrub of cymbals.

It's been cold. They've been
bone-old in their gripping cold.

Freezers have not hardened
love's hands flipping out stretching
fingers of stems and vines

in the deep chamber of wild woods
in shoes and stockings
of stumps and weaving undergrowth.

(ii)

Soft incense is burnt by the gods
to flow across spider-ridden faces,

a petrichor from the loud shout
of sun has cut off remnants
of drizzles wiping offdownpours
from the widened lips of a roar

that wetted tall taupe giants
in floating green jackets of leaves.

The sky has ripped itself into cream
pieces of flying shards and thickened
gray rags jumping over
to a silver space spraying a dull lace.

(iii)

It's been cold. They've been
rod- and pole-old, their bodies
welded out of the metal of their breath.

By the loud shout of sun.
By the hot coals of a floating hope.

A plain weave nightfall of flutes
piercing the close pores
of a hairy woolen-skinned body

of interwoven trees standing arm
to arm, scrubbing each other
for the warmth mere touch blows
into each other's chest and legs.

And clarinets in birds' mouths
sharpen a string of alto
as sneaky snakes float shrill notes
from lungs creeping under

and blow their whistles like cub scouts
calling for a drill in a world
hung on the edges of soft slashing
lances of lightning flung over leaves.

(iv)

They've been old in stone bones,
drooping heads sculpted
out of rock and roaring hills

in thick gowns of clouds, a closet
of dark hope not drained out yet.

Its been cold in rolling eyes
but hot over woolen brows weaving
a pullover sinking down
with the whistles and clarinets.

As strides ride to huts and cubicles
built of the bricks of brown air

and sticky dew-wet clay brewed
out of haze and fog and leaves

swinging hand to hand, elbow to elbow
in a tight crocheted forest
knit into their breath spreading
like a sheathe of quiet lake unrippling itself..