Bolted Moon-Lit Night Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Let your door
explode
into you, ballooned
and lumped
into a cotton ball of linen night.

Flipping you out.
Hurling you over
a towering pearl tree of night.

Shedding lace leaves
to melt into the flapped ears
of a swelling elephant.

Tossing you off
to edges of a round dough's
tumbling walls.

(ii)

Gagged stone moon,
ballooned egg shell,
do not bump down

from the throne
of your alabaster dome.

Iced moon
gaveled to stand
on a witness

box of night. Twitch O writhe
out of night's coconut cave.

Flip yourself out
of a hanging sea.

Spirals of flakes climbing
a tornado trail of light,

O flush and flash out
icicles and sea storm
of beige waves
sailing, sailing
to the shore of my bed,

Blocks and balls
of ice falling off
rocky walls
in the bed room.

(iii)

Iced mouths
spilling out white strands of candy
and nectar.

Large-mouthed daisy petals
on expanding hair foam,
lice in tassels and hairs of air.

Ice on insect lips.
Frost is a fly's voice picking
melody from a tree
of silence spreading branches

over sailing
cotton feathers of air.

White rabbits rolling on wool yarns,
marching tail to tail
on their splashed fur.

A curtain wall drawn down
with a bolted door,

a moonlit night
harboring sailing roses of white pearls:

Shift me, tow me out:
let me bow to a cream castle
on a cream castle.

Let me bow
to a towered altar of air,

as the sea of my bed
swings a tsunami
rock-fist punch
to knock me out into sleep.