Behind The Mountain Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

In the coughed-out
Hurricane and drummed boo
Of a typhoon
Behind a mountain of moths,

Where wasps sting,
Leaving buzzing bees carrying
Snake venom and scorpions'
Flowered pedipalp,
Only shark-tailed waves hit.

And hit hardest,
Tree branches sweeping
Streets clean,
Eroding them for castles,

Where mosquitoes swarm
In the music
Spraying drunken ears

With birdsong
And throat-hacking refrains
Erecting chapels,
Bleeding wounds sink
No more.

Spit out only with bubbles
And sods
Stroking an anchored beach dance,
Trees still rise tall
With umbrellas for boughs,

Under which broken
And quartered fishermen stand
On mantis legs
Like dented speckled trout.

(ii)

The storm still falls
With spades clearing tarmac
For more debris
And fishermen's nets
Trapping more
And more ruffled paper

With debris slashing off
Large-mouthed crowds
And telescope eyes

Piercing scribbles
Through mildewed paper,
Loud yells
Rise and stand on legs
Hoisting ribbons
From shackled wrists.