Your Dimple Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Earth drops with the boom
of a rock-swollen mountain
sinking into a crater's mouth.

In the storm wave
of my wrecked bouncing ship
piercing a sky in shards,

as I ride, my saddle
broken on the spooks and axle
of a gale's shaky bicycle,

I cling back to handlebars
in your dimple
raising me into a castle.

(ii)

In your dimple,
I live in a deep basement,
the fortress
lifting me into a ripple

of your broad smile
in which I swim,
your cheek my nest
swelling into a baby's laugh.

Every fleshy leaf
of sun from a cream-winged

patch of moth-powdered ray
and spiraled light

flies to me like the bird
flashed out
from the zephyr of your grin

with a whisper
into my ears
in a cave of nostalgia

clothing me thickly
with the pebbled
and sandy fabric of a desert.