Winter's Flesh Poem by Felix Bongjoh

At the park onyx screens
Of winter drop down
From flying
Dark wind-
And frost-bitten leaves.

From tossed-up
Dark curtains of a night
Veered in
By times' driver of shades.

Two tasters of evening
Screens and veils
Build their home here
Out of a nimbus nook,

O out of soot built up,
As evening
Shuts its doors
And windows to the over-frozen
World, everybody
A blind drifting sandstone,

Every hurrying dude
Wheels gliding too fast
To catch and grasp
The warmth of a cold
Winter evening
Full of shrunken bones
And little flesh,

While nature's jet black
And coal bricks
Pile up to the roof
Of ink season-sprayed leaves

To hit a roof of branches
And softly whistling
Twigs playing music. Clarinets
For two evening tasters
Lying glued, each to each

Like casebearers on walls
Gone numb,
While the two buddies
Sip and snivel off
Rolling aureole halos

In a blanketed nimbus
Of winter sheltering
The burning warmth of winter's flesh.